


Falling Slowly

by didipickles



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: A little handwaving of farm life, Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Background Alexis/Twyla, Blow Jobs, Frontier Era, Implied Sexual Content, It's always summer!, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, historical handwaving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:28:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 26,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21856066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/didipickles/pseuds/didipickles
Summary: After the Rose legacy literally goes up in flames, David decides the only way to help his family is to enter into an arranged marriage for money.Patrick Brewer, on the heels of a failed engagement, decides to put his search for love aside and marry for convenience.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 218
Kudos: 393
Collections: Schitt's Creek Open Fic Night 2.0





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title: ["Falling Slowly" from the movie Once](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k8mtXwtapX4)
> 
> I owe this entirely to my betas.   
> To this-is-not-nothing: you held my hand from the very beginning and nothing would have come if you hadn't helped me to keep writing and giving me endless validation.  
> To thegrayness: you shouted at all the right spots and also were a kind and thoughtful beta who improved the finished product by a factor of a million.  
> To Gus: you took my first chapter and shaped it into something with purpose and direction, and your influence can be felt through the rest of the fic.  
> You made this a reality.

When David wakes, the early light pink where it spills into the room, he can smell smoke. For a few seconds, David thinks he is still dreaming as he starts to hear screams and muffled cries through his open window. He sniffs and is met with the undeniable and familiar scent of burning wood and silk and cotton—the memory of the Dobson Wool Mill fire of 1854 is still fresh in the minds of those in town, and as David slips into full consciousness, he realizes the frantic sounds he’s hearing below are the same as they were that day.

A block away, the Rose Textile Factory blazes and smolders and crackles as it goes up in flames, taking David’s future with it.

Just as David rolls out of bed and pulls on his undershirt and trousers, he hears his father from downstairs, and icy dread spreads through David’s veins at the broken tone he’s certain he’s never heard before. “Oh god, no...no...Moira, it’s...”

David slips into his boots and rushes to the window, the sight only confirming what he already knew in his bones. The factory stands completely engulfed in flame, 30 years of his father’s life and work slowly crumbling to the ground. People are gathering and there’s a line starting to pass buckets of water—standard procedure for frontier fires—but David knows it’s too late. The frame of the building is collapsing and the fabrics inside are already gone by now. Some of the heavier machinery might make it through, but the factory won’t.

The morning passes in quick bursts of bad news. By the time the chain of events becomes clear mid-afternoon, the factory is still burning in the distance. David can feel his heartbeat somewhere in his throat when the bank manager comes and sits the entire family down. It’s difficult to pay attention to everything he’s saying as Moira is intermittently bursting into loud sobs and drawn-out screams and Alexis keeps gasping, but he hears enough of the conversation to realize everything in his life is gone. Everything he’s been working toward, everything he’s tried to pour himself into, it’s all disappeared like the black smoke still billowing into the sky a block away. 

The bank manager explains that over the last several weeks, David’s father Johnny’s business partner has been removing large amounts from the business’s account at the bank. By the time he lit the fire in the factory early this morning, the account was completely empty. Eli put a match to the Roses past and future all at once, stripping them of decades of earnings and any potential to recuperate. As his father asks quiet questions with a broken voice, David drops his head into his hands. 

Just last month he’d broached the topic with his father of leaving the factory and starting his own business. He’d been _so close_ to doing it, to becoming truly independent. The years at the factory overseeing production and inspecting finished pieces had given him extensive knowledge, and he’d been careful to pay attention to his father’s business dealings as well, always looking for something he could use in the future. Perhaps his father had no business sense after all, if this is what his partner did to him right under his nose.

His mother nearly trips in her rush to leave the room. Moira is crying—real tears too, not the ones she feigns on stage. On the sofa next to him, Alexis is softly weeping into her hand, her breathing erratic. Johnny is stock still in his chair with his eyebrows knit together, and even he looks close to angry tears. The emotional outbursts spark something in David. He should be crying too, shouldn’t he? He feels numb, utterly unable to process what his new future might look like. David has spent his life in comfort, enjoying the benefits of growing up the son of the man with the largest factory in a 20-mile radius, with a clear picture of his life ahead of him. All that clarity has been stripped away, and David shudders as the tears finally start to fall.

* * *

“Another factory fire out east. Such a shame. Clint, do you recognize the name? John Rose? I wonder if we’ve ever gotten any clothing from their factory out here,” Marcy says, shaking her head and putting down the paper. She offers Patrick a small, slightly uncomfortable smile. 

As his father joins them at the table, he makes a noncommittal noise. “It’s possible,” he hums. He’s quiet as he takes the paper and flips through it. Things have been tense in the house for the past few weeks, but he can tell his parents are trying, and he loves them for it. Despite their efforts, neither of them seem to know what to say to him anymore. At least once he tells them his new plan for the future there will be something to talk about other than his broken engagement.

After ending things with Rachel and causing a scandal in their small town, Patrick spent weeks doubting everything he thought his life would be. It started with her, with breaking his best friend’s heart and the promise he made when he proposed. He can still remember her tear-streaked face the day she packed her things into her uncle’s wagon and left with him, heading west to a town where she wouldn’t be followed by rumors or the spectre of a broken engagement. In the weeks since she’s left, Patrick has found himself wishing he had a similar opportunity to start over. Once the thought took root, Patrick couldn’t get it out of his head. He hated himself for what he did to Rachel, but he had started to feel trapped in a life that felt like it was slowly closing in around him, and breaking the engagement was the one tangible way he could regain some semblance of control.

Patrick has long known that he needs to start a life on his own, away from his parents. They are kind, good, wonderful people who work hard and taught him everything they know about maintaining a farm and a home, and they’ve earned their success. They aren’t enormously wealthy, but Patrick knows the years of work have left them comfortable. Now, he longs for the chance to do something apart from them, to prove that failing with Rachel wasn’t a failure at everything. If he couldn’t love Rachel, he can’t love anyone, but that doesn’t mean he can’t do other things, be productive and successful and happy. Some people never had a love match, and ended up fine.

Which is why this morning, Patrick decides it’s time to talk to his parents about what he’s been considering. They love him; he knows that. They want him to be happy; he knows that, too. But even so, he doesn’t know what their reaction will be. 

“Ma, Pa…” As soon as he starts, the tremble in his voice immediately draws his mother’s eyebrows together as she looks at him. “I’ve been thinking, since—since everything happened,” he says, and suddenly he’s not sure anymore. Not sure he can tell them, not sure he can go through with it, not sure of who he is. 

Marcy reaches across the table and touches the top of Patrick’s hand where he’s clenched it unconsciously into a fist. It’s the lightest of brushes, there and gone, but it centers him and he rolls his shoulders back before continuing.

“I’m ready to start my own household, and I would like you to help me find a partner,” Patrick says in a rush. Something in him loosens slightly as the words leave the perch they’ve been occupying in his head for weeks. When he sees the way his father’s eyes widen, he barrels on. “I tried to do it on my own with Rachel but—” He swallows and shakes his head. “I am not looking for a love match. I need someone who can help me run a house and the farm, and a marriage of convenience will do that.” The silence in the room is thick while Patrick waits for a response—any response. “Arranged marriages have worked for many people; there’s Lydia, and the Pipers in Glen Falls were an arranged marriage, and Nathan and Joshua two farms over as well.” 

The silence continues, and Patrick tucks his hands into his lap. He knows this has to be a shock to his parents, but he also knows he’s right. Marriages of convenience are not uncommon: men looking for partners to run a home, women looking for companionship in their advancing age, people who have had little luck in love and are looking for a simple and quick arrangement. His cousin Lydia had an arranged marriage two summers ago, and she and Harmony seem happy together. 

His parents are still quiet, apparently shocked into perpetual silence. Patrick clears his throat and lays his hands flat on the wooden tabletop. He can still remember the pride in Clint’s eyes when Patrick had managed to complete this table on his own. He’d do just about anything to bring that look back now, but he presses on instead. “It’s time, Pa. I’ve learned so much from you and Ma, but it’s time. I’ve been thinking, and I want to start a business, too. I’m good with numbers, and that summer I spent clerking taught me a lot.” He looks between his parents but no one speaks. “The other farm is ready for me, and I’m already spending most nights there. I need someone to help me run it, and—and I need help finding them.” 

This point, at least, he knows his parents will concede. He’s been spending more and more time in the home that was meant for him as a wedding present. It’s a nice parcel of land a little less than an hour away by horse, and the Brewers have kept it well-maintained over the last decade since purchasing it for Patrick; he knows they expected him to marry much earlier. It’s well past time for Patrick to step up and take it on. 

Patrick startles when Clint slaps a hand on the table and speaks matter-of-factly. “Well. I suppose we ought to put together something for the paper, then.” He’s disappointed; Patrick can see it in the way the corners of his eyes pinch and the way his shoulders are raised. But disappointed or not, he’s going to help, and just like that Patrick’s plan is set into motion.

The three Brewers spend the day working through specifics and discussing over and over again if Patrick is sure. It becomes clearer as the day wears on that Marcy is heart-broken at the thought of her only son entering a marriage of convenience. At one point she puts a hand on Patrick’s shoulder and stares at him without speaking, her eyes shining with tears she won’t let fall. She’s valiant in her efforts to be supportive, but Patrick knows she’s hurting, and it’s crushing. He wants to make her happy, and he wants to make his father proud, and he wants to be the man that everyone has always told him he’s capable of becoming. 

But more than anything, he just wants to strike out on his own.

When the information is ready, Patrick kisses his mother on the cheek, shakes his father’s hand, and climbs his horse to start the journey into town. As Patrick rides through the sprawling farmland, he finds himself staring at the horizon and wondering what his future might hold now.

* * *

A week after the fire, the Rose family packs up whatever belongings remain after selling the majority of what they own and sets off for a parcel of land Johnny bought several years ago during a trip out west. The trip takes a full day and before long, cracks are starting to form.

Moira tries to start a story about halfway through the day, talking about a character she played onstage several years ago who “had suffered her own sweeping misfortunes,” but before Moira can get much further, she breaks into sobs. Alexis casts her eyes to David, apparently seeking help, and he throws his hands up and looks back out the window. He wants nothing more than to close his eyes and wake up to find that this has all been a terrible dream.

It’s been years since the family has spent this much time in a small space together, and it’s increasingly apparent why as the trip stretches into the evening. No one has spoken for over an hour, and the view of their new home and its size as they approach it does absolutely nothing to assuage the growing tension.

“Well, look at that!” Johnny says once they’re all standing in front of the house. His tone practically drips false cheer, and David represses the urge to groan. “Wonderful, wonderful,” Johnny continues, grabbing a suitcase at random and approaching the tiny structure. Clearly his father has a different definition of the word than David does, because nothing about what he sees can reasonably be classified as wonderful.

The house sits on the edge of several acres of farmland, a one-story with two adjoining bedrooms. It quickly becomes clear that in a space this small, there’s absolutely no escaping each other. Johnny keeps up the pretense as he gives the family “the tour,” which is more of a single sweeping gesture around the room. 

“It’s a bit diminutive, isn’t it, John?” Moira asks. “Certainly rather more… _intimate_ than our previous abode.” The word _intimate_ sounds like the harshest possible condemnation when she says it. 

After more placations and assurances from Johnny, the family retires to their two small rooms. It’s the quietest evening David can ever remember. He hates that there are no sounds to distract him from his own thoughts, and spends long minutes wondering if he’ll be able to sleep at all.

When David finally starts to drift off into sleep despite the unfamiliar silence, he hears Alexis sniff. He counts to five and hears another sniff.

“Okay, I’m not going to be able to sleep with that going on, so.”  
  
“Sorry that I’m suffering through a major life change right now, David!” Alexis hisses back, and it’s been years since David’s heard this level of emotion in her voice. It occurs to him that Alexis’ life has been even more drastically affected than his own. While he spent most of his time relatively alone except for the nights spent in someone else’s bed, Alexis’ life has been spent surrounded by people who adore her. Here, in the middle of nowhere farmland, she has no one. 

“We all are,” he finally responds, and he’s a bit surprised to hear how gentle his voice is.

Alexis doesn’t say anything for a long moment, and David thinks maybe she’s fallen asleep when she speaks again, her voice completely stripped of its usual lilt. “Are we going to be okay?” She sounds so unsure, and David is reminded of the little girl he once spent long afternoons playing games with to pass the time while their parents were out doing things with people more worth their time. More than anything, it’s the rawness of her voice that spurs David on.

“We’re going to be okay. I’m going to make sure we’re okay.”

Over the next few weeks, the Roses learn how to move around each other—or rather, avoid each other—in a space a quarter of the size of their previous home. Moira spends more time sleeping than she does awake for the first week, adjusting in her own way to a life without performing. 

Johnny on the other hand throws himself into learning the farm. David gets the distinct impression that the tenant farmers who Johnny’s been paying to maintain the land have realized that he won’t be able to pay them much longer. They’re cold and distant when his father tries to speak with them, but Johnny’s spirits are not easily dampened. He spends more and more time out on the land, ostensibly learning about the farm though David suspects it’s more to avoid the crushingly close quarters. 

To everyone’s surprise, Alexis transitions quickly and easily into their new life after a shaky first few days. She spends an entire afternoon helping a kind-faced worker in the garden behind the house, and later that week Alexis and the worker—Twyla, David learns—pass three days pruning and shearing all the trees and shrubs on the property. David watches as Alexis flirts her way into the good graces of the stable workers, and she starts to split her time between helping Twyla and riding horseback. One day David decides to go riding with her, though it admittedly takes some work. David knows he has many talents; being comfortable on a horse is not one of them.

“No, David, it’s easy, you just have to make sure the horse knows that you respect it,” Alexis explains patiently the first time they go out together, stroking her horse’s mane affectionately. 

“And how exactly am I supposed to convey that to an animal?” David snips back. 

There are a few false starts and near disasters, but eventually David learns how his horse likes to be approached and treated, and soon enough David can mount with ease. After a few days of adjusting, sitting atop a horse feels as natural to David as anything.

When David goes out riding with Alexis, he begins to understand why Alexis is spending more and more of her time this way. It’s the closest feeling to freedom they have, and David starts going out by himself just to taste it. He rides just around their land at first, and then starts riding further, passing the neighboring farms and learning the area. As he rides, he tries desperately to think of what he can do to take care of the family now. He promised Alexis he would, but as he spends day after day on horseback, nothing comes to him. Without the potential of backing money from his father, David can’t possibly start a business. And his skills with fabrics amount to practically nothing out here, far from the city. Before the fire, David’s future seemed like an endless horizon of opportunities, but now he feels helpless. 

Exactly four weeks after the factory fire, David realizes how he can save his family.

David traditionally hasn’t paid much attention to the section in the paper detailing various people looking for arranged marriages. But since everything in his life has shifted radically on its axis, he finds himself scanning the section each morning. Today’s paper has some of the usual suspects: businessmen looking for someone to keep the household in order while they work, widows in search of company and a strong pair of hands to keep their farm running, farmers seeking a partner. One particular listing catches David’s eye, and he reads it over three times while his pulse quickens. This could be it. This could be what saves them all.

Initially, his father is skeptical, but David persists, pointing out that the inquiry is looking for “an able-bodied partner, male or female, with the ability to manage a household” as well as someone “with business sense for a possible new venture.” David may not be the _most_ savvy at managing a household—they’ve always had help in their home in the city—but David spent enough time with Adelina growing up that he knows what it takes, and he knows he can do it. If he’s being honest with himself, it’s also the possibility of starting something new with someone that draws him in. 

The past decade of David’s life has been spent acquiring the knowledge he’d need to run his own business. If he can’t do it the way he’d envisioned for himself, then this might be the only other way. And after years and years of failed relationships, after spending night after night looking for someone who’d pay attention to him for a few hours at least, after being abandoned every time he thought he’d found something real…he’s ready for this. Ready for an arranged marriage, ready to do _one goddamn thing_ to be useful. If love isn’t ever going to be a possibility, the least he can do is save his family.

The ad was posted by the Brewer family, who live about 5 miles west. The paper says that the family will negotiate terms in person, but promises compensation for the marriage and the family of the person who marries their son.

“They’re farmers, they might even take this land off your hands,” David says. “Let me do this. I have…” David takes a breath. He’s never been this exposed and vulnerable before, not in front of his family. “I have nothing else I can do for us here, but I can do this. Let me do this.”

It takes more careful convincing, but Johnny eventually agrees to write to the Brewers, and for the first time in a month David feels the tiniest bit of control over something in his life. It should be the opposite, he thinks, but making this decision for himself, for his family, for the future—it feels like reclamation. Instead of being dragged kicking and screaming into a new life, David can choose an unfamiliar path on his own, and that makes all the difference. 

It takes several days to hear back from the Brewers, but when their response arrives, it comes with an invitation for Johnny to visit their farm to discuss terms and make sure everything is in order to move forward.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come, son?” Johnny asks for the fifth time. David’s considered it, obviously—he might be _marrying_ this person after all—but in the end he decides it’s better to just wait and see what happens. A part of him is afraid that he won’t be able to go through with it if he has to meet the family first. So his father goes alone one morning, David’s future in his hands. 

When Johnny returns from his visit late that evening, David is sitting in front of the house and beginning to panic about his plan. The grin on his father’s face when he rides into view and dismounts should be some comfort, but David can’t seem to find it.

“Oh, David, you’ll never believe it. It’s just…” Johnny is panting a bit, and David resists the urge to grab his shoulders and shake the news out of him. His father claps a hand on his shoulder. “Let’s get inside, your mother needs to hear this too.”

Alexis is out somewhere on the grounds with Twyla, who’s taken to teaching Alexis constellations, and Johnny insists on calling her in too before sharing anything. By the time the four of them are seated together, David feels ready to shake out of his skin. Johnny pulls out a piece of paper and sets it on the table.

“They agreed.” Johnny is looking around delightedly at his family, but no one responds. David bites his lip to keep from screaming for more information, and thankfully his father takes the silence as a hint and goes on. “They’re going to purchase half the farm and pay the wages of the tenant farmers, and let us stay here while we work on what’s next,” he says, and the entire table lets out a sigh of relief. “David,” Johnny says, and his voice has gone a bit more serious. He fixes David with a look that David isn’t used to, a look that clearly says Johnny cares about the response to what he’s about to say. “Son, are you entirely sure you want to do this? Nothing is set in stone, not until you go through with the wedding.”

At the word _wedding,_ David feels a frisson of nervousness pass through him. Of course he knew a marriage of convenience would obviously involve getting married, but suddenly it seems much more real. He swallows and meets his father’s eye. “Yes. I’m sure. I want to do this for us.” He doesn’t say _and for me,_ but it hangs in the air anyway. Alexis is looking at him strangely, like she can’t quite recognize him, and David nods. “I’m sure,” he repeats.

Three days later, David heads into town with his family. Today is his wedding day, and David is about to meet his husband.


	2. Chapter 2

The mirror in the back room of the town hall is a bit cloudy and the edges have gone dark, but Patrick can see that his mother did a good job with his suit. It’s the same one his father was married in, and with Marcy’s alterations, he looks…well, he’s never been one to think much about appearance, but he supposes he looks handsome. Not that it matters a great deal, since this wedding is nothing more than a formality before Patrick and the stranger— _ David,  _ he corrects himself—head into a future they’ve agreed to face together. 

The uncomfortable nerves in his stomach have settled a little since arriving at the small town hall building, but as Patrick looks at himself in the mirror, he wonders if he’s making the right choice. The expectations of the marriage are clear—Patrick needs someone to oversee the farm with him, to keep the home running, and eventually to help him start a new business; David’s family lost everything in a factory fire and they need help. Patrick’s father agreed to purchase part of their farmland to help them maintain it, and will give the family a monthly stipend for the first three years of David and Patrick’s marriage. It’s a partnership, business only. Nothing else is expected. Perhaps a friendship if they’re lucky, but certainly nothing romantic.

So why is Patrick checking himself in the mirror for the fourth time? A good first impression, maybe.

The chance to examine the thought leaves as his parents enter the room with the mayor, who will be performing the ceremony. Patrick shakes Roland’s hand, and the clap on his shoulder feels sincere. Mayor Schitt rubs some people the wrong way, but Patrick has known him for years, and knows he’s a hard worker who cares about the people in his town and the surrounding farming communities. He’s slightly uncouth, but he is also completely without guile. Patrick may not always like him, but he respects him. 

A bit of that goodwill is lost when Roland sucks at his teeth and gives Patrick a once over, which he follows up with, “Well, you sure don’t look as fancy as your groom, but this’ll do.” So perhaps  _ handsome  _ was a bit of a stretch. Dammit. 

Marcy, always keenly aware of the mood in a room, pulls Patrick into a hug and whispers, “You look fantastic, don’t you pay him any mind.” Her arms around him work the way they always have, and when the hug ends Patrick feels ready. He nods at Roland and at his father before giving himself one last look. Fancy or not, he looks like a groom.

No fanfare accompanies him when he enters the large open room that makes up the town hall. He’d seen Mr. and Mrs. Rose briefly when he arrived earlier, but he still hasn’t laid eyes on the man he’s about to marry, and none of them are in the room. Both families had agreed to keep the ceremony as small as possible. Besides Roland and Patrick’s parents, the only other person in the room is a young woman who looks like she was plucked from a different world entirely. She’s lovely and alone, and looks utterly at home despite not matching her surroundings in the slightest. This must be the sister. She turns and sees Patrick, and he watches her face as she realizes who he is. In seconds she is hurtling towards Patrick, pulling him into a hug. He freezes, his arms awkward and stiff where they refuse to wrap back around her. It’s inappropriate for them to hug, he thinks wildly, until he remembers that she is about to be  _ his  _ sister, too. 

She pulls away and her smile sets him at ease immediately. “Patrick, wow, you are definitely a pleasant surprise,” she says, her voice almost a singsong. “I’m Alexis.” Her hand hangs out limply toward him. After the hug they’ve just shared, he’s not sure a handshake is necessary, but he smiles and takes her hand anyway. She immediately brings up her other one to clasp his and hold it tight and then leans in and drops her voice into a conspiratory whisper. “David is pretty much freaking out right now, so I’m not sure if you being super adorable is going to make him feel better or worse, but either way I promise he is going to be a lot less hysterical after this is over.” 

This much candor from a total stranger takes Patrick by surprise, but in his gut he already trusts Alexis, so he leans in and gives her hand a squeeze. “Between you and me, I’m freaking out a little, too. I think we all just want to make it through this in one piece.”

Alexis gives him a dazzling smile and then drops his hand. Her eyes shift to somewhere over his right shoulder, and Patrick turns around to see Mr. and Mrs. Rose again, and behind them— _ wow.  _ Patrick understands immediately what Roland meant. A striking man with a full brow and sharp, glinting eyes walks behind them, dressed in the kind of clothing Patrick has only ever seen through shop windows when he visits bigger city centers on business with his father. The man is in a white shirt with a shiny black waistcoat and fitted frock coat that makes his shoulders look impossibly broad while simultaneously drawing Patrick’s eye to his waist. 

The first thing Patrick thinks is that this man is the most elegant creature he’s ever seen, and the second is utter bewilderment: why is this man wearing clothing that could pay for half the livestock on any farm? Patrick finds himself wondering how much they could sell the clothing for just as the man’s head turns toward him, and their eyes meet. A small swirling sensation begins in Patrick’s abdomen and spreads through his chest out to his fingertips. 

So  _ this  _ is David Rose. 

The eye contact lingers just long enough to make Patrick start to flush, especially when David’s mouth quirks just slightly, like he’s vastly amused by the whole ordeal, and Patrick in particular. It should be unsettling, but Patrick finds himself sending a small smile back, and is rewarded with the appearance of a dimple in David’s left cheek. Charmed, that’s how Patrick feels, he realizes. He hasn’t exchanged a single word with this man who is about to be his husband, but he is already utterly charmed by him and his well-coiffed hair and his too-expensive clothes and his tiny smirk. 

Patrick thinks he probably ought to cross over to him, say something to him, but Roland clears his throat and takes his place at the front of the large room before Patrick can do anything. Clint and Marcy finish their quiet conversation with Mr. and Mrs. Rose and take their seats.  _ This is it, no going back now, _ Patrick thinks. When he realizes Roland is calling his name, Patrick startles and apologizes as he moves to his designated spot. David stands next to him, and suddenly Patrick is regretting the request he made to skip meeting before the wedding. His father had gone to the Rose farm shortly after entering negotiations in order to get a look at the land, and he’d returned with full confidence that David would be a good match, and so Patrick had decided meeting was unnecessary. He wanted to be out of the house, starting his new life, and he wanted it as soon as possible. 

Now, standing next to a total stranger who has already taken Patrick entirely by surprise, he finds himself wishing he knew what David’s voice sounded like. How absurd had he been to think he didn’t want to  _ meet  _ the person he was marrying?

His thoughts are once again interrupted when Roland starts the ceremony. Patrick tries to watch him, to listen to the words of advice he’s passing along about patience and compromise, to understand the meandering story he tells, but he can’t stop his eyes and thoughts from drifting to the man standing at his side. Now that they’re standing close, Patrick can see the tension in his face, the strain of the muscles of his neck above the neat ascot he has perfectly tied. Alexis was right, David is nervous. The thought is comforting, and Patrick wishes he could somehow convey to David that he’s not alone in it, but Roland is still talking. 

The eighth time Patrick’s eyes slide to look at David, David is looking back at him. A jolt runs through Patrick, and on instinct he reaches a hand out before realizing what he’s doing. His hand lands somewhere above David’s elbow, and Patrick’s panic must be evident on his face because David’s face relaxes into a smile. Embarrassed and relieved, Patrick smiles back and then drops his hand, turning his focus back to Roland. Why is David having such an  _ effect  _ on him?

“And so, Patrick Brewer, will you swear to work alongside David as equal partners, caring for one another and serving one another until death parts you?”

The words ring in Patrick’s head in the moments before he responds.  _ Until death parts you.  _ He turns to find David watching him again, his brows slightly drawn together. He looks almost…skeptical, and the look pushes Patrick to open his mouth.    


“I will.”

Roland nods and turns to David. “Will you, David Rose, swear to work alongside Patrick as equal partners, caring for one another and serving one another until death parts you?”

Patrick hasn’t taken his eyes off David, and David gives him a long, piercing look. For a moment it feels like a challenge, until his eyes lighten and he nods. 

“I will.”

“Then by the power vested in me as mayor, I pronounce you married.” There’s an awkward pause, and Patrick doesn’t know if he’s supposed to shake his husband’s hand or kiss him or do nothing. David is watching him with that tiny quirk at the side of his mouth, and Patrick fleetingly wonders what that quirk tastes like. His eyes widen as he realizes what he’s thinking, and then David’s expression changes into something a bit more hardened. Patrick schools his own face into something he hopes is neutral just as his parents come up and join them.

The next few minutes pass in a blur. Both families head out into the street to transfer David’s belongings into the small cart that will take Patrick and David to the home they now share. With a pang Patrick realizes the two trunks are probably nothing compared to what David had in his life before the fire. Everyone says their goodbyes, with the Brewers making Patrick promise to come visit soon, and the elder Roses standing nearby, aloof. Alexis on the other hand hugs Patrick again, and he smiles at the whispered “take care of him” she leaves in his ear. 

After helping David up into the cart, Patrick climbs in and takes hold of the reins and starts them down the city center, dust kicking up in their wake. The one-horse cart is small, and he is suddenly very aware of the warmth of David’s thigh pressed against his own and the way their arms keep brushing. That awareness is closely chased by the realization that he is now alone with his husband, and they’ve still only exchanged about 10 words. Patrick tries to think of something, anything, to say. The harder he tries to focus, the more his mind drifts, and now he’s wondering what the stubble on David’s cheek would feel like against his bare skin.

David breaks the silence first. “I thought there might be food afterward.” His voice is unlike any Patrick has heard before: high and breathy but strangely resonant as well, a contradiction. Everything about David so far has been a contradiction—expensive clothes on a man who’s lost everything, polished exterior with shaking nerves beneath, the picture of propriety whose first comment is about his own hunger. It makes Patrick laugh, and he can feel David relax next to him. 

“We’ll eat when we get to my farm,” Patrick replies, and then quickly looks over at David. “Uh, I mean. Our farm. Your new home. Since it’s yours now, too.” He’s rambling and he knows it, but is completely unable to stop. “So it’s our home, actually, and —”

“Yep, I understand how the property sharing goes, thanks,” David says, and he doesn’t sound upset. Patrick risks another glance, and sees that David has that small smirk again. Patrick wonders if that’s how David’s face naturally looks, and if he’ll still be smirking once Patrick puts him to work. When David speaks again, the smirk is audible. “So how far is it to  _ our farm,  _ anyway?” He draws the words out as though trying to taste them, and hearing the words from David’s mouth elicits a strange thrum of anxiety in Patrick’s gut. 

He pushes it down. No time to look back. “About a 20-minute ride from the city center. It’s quicker on horseback, but Belinda doesn’t like to go too fast when she’s hauling.”

“Belinda and I have that in common.” After a beat, both men laugh and Patrick thinks maybe this will be okay. He likes David, likes how he keeps saying things that Patrick doesn’t expect. He likes the way David is picking himself up after having his whole world shifted, and likes that he gets to be there for the ride. Yes, this might be okay after all.

The rest of the ride goes smoothly. Patrick points out the various buildings in the city until they move into farmland, and David asks practical questions about the daily tasks and the size of the farm and the number of animals. Patrick explains about the tenant farmers who live on the far side of the farm, and David talks about the workers at his own family’s farm. It puts Patrick at ease that conversation is already flowing, and the steady banter underneath has Patrick laughing more than he’s laughed in months. David is quick, intelligent, and so different from anyone Patrick has ever known. 

When they pass over a ridge and the farm comes into view, Patrick nods toward it. “There it is. Welcome home, David.”

David doesn’t respond, and when Patrick glances to him, he’s surprised to see that David’s eyes are shining. The comfortable ease Patrick had settled into immediately evaporates.

“I know, uh, that this is strange for you,” he ventures, feeling compelled to somehow lighten this man’s burden. “I’ll do whatever I can to help you…settle in.” God, he really has no idea what he’s doing.

A small smile works its way over David’s features, and he shakes his head. “No, it’s just—” He makes a sound, a half-laugh enveloped in something else. “Sorry, I think it’s all just hitting me now. The new life, the farm, the husband.”

Patrick nods immediately. “I know what you mean. But I promised to work with you and take care of you, and David—” Why is he getting emotional at this? Patrick hardly knows this man, but an overwhelming urge to protect him wells up inside Patrick’s throat, pushing the words out. “I’m going to. Okay?”

David looks startled, his eyes wide and mouth slightly open. The reaction takes Patrick aback, and he feels himself flush. That was definitely too much. Perfect. Nothing like scaring your husband scarcely an hour after meeting him. 

“Okay.” David’s soft reply is almost lost in the jostling of the cart as Patrick guides them through the gate, but he can just make it out above the noise. 

They unpack the cart in silence, and then Patrick leads David inside, through the front of the house to the room they will now share as husbands. Patrick tries his best to not feel awkward as he directs David to the space he’s cleared for David’s things.

“This dresser here has some clothes for you, they should probably fit okay, and the bottom two drawers are empty.” Patrick clears his throat and scratches the back of his neck as he looks up. “Though, uh, if it’s easier for you since you are—since you’re taller than me—I can give you the top drawers?”   
  
David looks like he’s fighting a laugh when he responds. “No, it’s fine, it’s—I’m okay with top or bottom.” 

The air in the room suddenly becomes stifling and Patrick can feel the flush crawling up his neck to his ears. “Oh okay, that’s—great, then we’ll just—I’ll leave it how it is.” 

The bed looks markedly smaller than it did when Patrick left it this morning. Patrick gives his head a quick shake, suppressing that thought for now. There’s work to be done, things to accomplish. He can think about the space David will take up beside him later.

Patrick shrugs off his suit jacket while David unpacks. Once David’s clothing is folded and put in the bottom drawers, Patrick clears his throat. “I can go heat up some stew if you’d like to change.” He gestures at David’s elegant clothing, which looks so out of place in the stark bareness of this room. “You’re a bit overdressed for dinner,” he adds, grinning when David’s smirk returns. 

“Am I? And here I thought we’d be dining in high fashion every evening.” David’s opening up his frock coat, and Patrick fights the urge to slap his hands over his eyes like a child. There’s nothing untoward about watching his  _ husband  _ undo a coat, but it feels weightier, carrying an expectation that Patrick doesn’t know how to follow through on. With the jacket off, Patrick’s eyes are drawn back to the broadness of David’s shoulders, the cinch of the vest at his waist. He convinces himself he’s merely appraising David’s body because he’ll be working alongside him.

“Ah, I knew I forgot to include that in the inquiry looking for a spouse,” Patrick replies, and David gives him a full smile as he opens up the vest. “I should have made it clear that we only dine in threadbare clothing. Preferably with extra holes.”   
  
“Give it a few months and I’m sure my clothes will be there.” The vest is gone now, and Patrick’s mouth is dry as David pulls the white shirt from his pants and over his head. His chest covered in dark hair that narrows into a line down his stomach. It’s not as though Patrick hasn’t seen men undressed before. He’s lost track of how many summers he’s spent in the river with friends, clothing discarded at the shoreline. But seeing David standing in his—their—room with his shirt off is affecting Patrick in a way he’s not quite able to name. 

Patrick clears his throat and David looks up at him, an eyebrow raised in a question to which Patrick has no answer. “I’ll just, uh, go heat up the food.” He practically runs from the room and the quizzical look on David’s face, retreating into the safety of a home he’s at least familiar with, even if he doesn’t know how to share it with this man.

* * *

With Patrick’s nervous, fluttery energy out of the room, David finally has a chance to focus on his own anxious mind. It had been surprisingly easy, the back and forth with Patrick, the relatively short ride through town toward the rest of his life. Now that he’s here, he wishes he could blink and be transported a month from now, six months from now, some time in the future when they’d be past the awkwardness that settled over them once they entered the house. 

As David changes out of his wedding clothes—the one relic of his past life and old hopes—he reassures himself, reminds himself that this will pass. Patrick may be a relative stranger, but even the little time they’ve spent together has been enough to convince David he hasn’t made a gigantic mistake. Patrick is steady and solid, with a build that obviously shows his years of farmwork. Underneath that, he’s kind and remarkably quick in keeping up with David. Before the wedding, David valiantly tried to not let his imagination run wild, and though he often failed, nothing he’d pictured came close to this man. 

Dressed in a simple work shirt and trousers, David leaves the bedroom and moves through the rest of the house, allowing himself to look more closely this time. It’s small, contained to one floor, but he notices a loft above the living space with a ladder leading up to it. The kitchen, living area, and dining area have no walls between them, and David watches Patrick in front of the stove. He’s methodical in the way he stirs the stew, slow and deliberate. David thinks that maybe those are Patrick’s defining characteristics, and for a flash of a moment he wonders what else Patrick can do slowly and deliberately and with great skill. 

When Patrick turns and gives him a small smile, David returns it easily before continuing to take in his new home. It’s obvious that Patrick hasn’t put much effort into personalizing the place, and David immediately runs through a list of the shops Patrick pointed out as they left town. Nothing remarkable, but he supposes he can pull together a few things to soften the space, make it more welcoming. Though maybe that’s a conversation he should save for later.

Patrick announces the stew is ready and David joins him at the table. They’re seated across from each other, which means David has a clear view of Patrick’s forearms as he lifts spoonful after spoonful to his lips, which David is now noticing have a near-constant tilt to them, like he’s amused just by David’s presence. Maybe he looks that way all the time. Either way, David is struggling to pay attention to his own stew, and gets three spoonfuls in before spilling on the table and his pants. “God, sorry, sorry,” he bursts out, standing quickly and then realizing he doesn’t even know where to look for a rag. Patrick is laughing now.

“I’ve seen worse,” he replies, moving to the kitchen chest and returning with a rag. David reaches for it at the same moment Patrick is extending his hand to wipe at the stain on David’s thigh, and they end up with David’s hand around Patrick’s wrist, guiding him as he presses it gently against the spot. David’s heart must be audible for how noisy it is in his own head. 

He clears his throat and releases Patrick’s wrist, taking the rag and making sure not to brush his fingers as he does. Once he’s finished wiping up the table, he clears his throat again and finally makes eye contact with Patrick, who is watching him with a blank expression. “Um. Where do I…?” Patrick points at a small bucket near the back door, and David uses the brief reprieve as he walks to drop the rag in to try and collect himself. 

By the time he is back at the table, David has realized something dire. He’s very,  _ very  _ attracted to his husband. Dammit.

The rest of dinner is quiet. David helps Patrick clean up—their fingers touch three times in exchanging dishes—and then Patrick is saying something about how David will meet the tenant farmers in the morning. When Patrick starts talking about the different tasks he’ll need help with, David tries as hard as he can to pay attention to the words and not the way Patrick's lips are moving, the long line of his neck, the faint sprinkling of light hair David can see where Patrick's shirt billows forward. He needs to regroup, to reassess. Being attracted to your husband surely isn't the worst thing in the world; he just needs to manage it. 

Being shown the outhouse certainly helps to quell any potentially dangerous thoughts, and when David returns to the house he’s feeling significantly more centered.

The room darkens as the evening falls, and David has to admit the space looks much better in soft lighting, several lanterns and the fireplace providing a gentleness to the relatively stark room. 

Patrick makes a vague gesture. “After dinner, you’re free to do whatever you like.” A small flush crawls down his neck as Patrick stutters and amends. "I mean, obviously you don't have to ask me for permission to do things, this isn't a prison. I just mean there aren't any chores if you want to—to read, or sleep, or whatever you'd like." It's charming, because apparently everything this man does is charming, because of course David's plan to save his family and start a new life would be complicated by actually  _ liking  _ the person he married.

David ends up spending the next hour or so doing a more thorough inspection of the house and then sitting in a rocking chair by the fire. Patrick has pulled out a book and sits in another chair by a lantern. At first it feels unbearably awkward, like David needs to be filling the empty space, but eventually he settles into the quiet. There's a gentle crackling from the fire which Patrick had stoked with ease, and David could see this being comfortable. He could see himself adjusting to this. A part of him still yearns for the constant activity of his old life, but Patrick's steady unmoving presence in the room is strangely grounding. David loses track of time as he watches the fire, and he's startled when Patrick clears his throat right next to him. 

"We have a bit of an early morning tomorrow," Patrick says gently. "It's probably time to get ready for bed—uh, to sleep." 

David suppresses a smirk and nods, standing and following Patrick to the small curtained off space in the far corner that serves as a washing area. A large wooden tub stands next to a shelf with a few washcloths and a bowl with a ladle. David only partially hears Patrick when he explains that the water gets dumped and refilled every morning from the well outside; this part of frontier life is familiar after the past month in his family’s farmhouse. He’s thinking instead about the tub he had in the city, filled with water warmed over the fire. It’s been over a month now since he’s had a proper bath, and David wonders how far the river is. Side by side, he and Patrick alternate scooping water from the bowl and dipping washcloths in the tub. The proximity feels almost indecent, and David reminds himself again that this is what his life looks like now—his life with Patrick.

After they’ve both washed up, David takes a lantern to the bedroom and changes into his nightshirt while Patrick puts out the other lanterns in the living area. David is already under the covers when Patrick enters the room, and he really should have waited to change because now he’s just in bed watching while Patrick strips, and he shouldn’t be watching, he really shouldn’t, but he can’t seem to look away. Patrick’s chest is broader than it looked under his shirt, and his arms are clearly toned. He pulls the nightshirt on before taking off his trousers, and David smiles at the attempt at modesty. 

The room is silent except for the loud thumping of David’s heart as Patrick climbs into bed next to him. It’s not a tiny bed, but neither of them are small, and David feels like he might topple off the edge for how much space he’s trying to leave between them. Patrick’s breathing is measured but quick as they lie next to each other in the near-darkness. 

“You can put out the lantern, David,” Patrick murmurs, turning to face him. Why didn’t his father warn him that Patrick was so—so  _ this?  _ He is looking at David with a world of softness in his eyes. They’ve only known each other for half a day, but David is definitely already in danger.

David nods and leans over to extinguish the flickering light, and the room is plunged into blackness. The silence isn’t exactly uncomfortable, but David wants to fill it anyway. He wants to hear more of Patrick’s voice, listen to the matter-of-fact way he explains things, and he desperately wants to prove to both of them that this wasn’t a bad decision. David is going to be a good husband. He can do that for Patrick.

“Your home is nice,” he hears himself say. 

When Patrick replies David can hear the smile in his voice. “It’s your home too, you know. But, thank you.” There’s a pause. Patrick’s voice is closer when he speaks again, and David feels like the bed is shrinking rapidly beneath him. “I don’t know a proper way to say this, but I’m glad to have you here and I do hope you come to feel that this is your home as much as mine. Arranged marriage aside, it’ll be nice to have company.”

“That’s a bold assumption, what if I murdered all the livestock tomorrow?” David could kick himself for letting that kind of comment slip, but Patrick huffs out a laugh and rolls onto his back.

“Then you’d have to pay me back for them, and considering you married me for money, I don’t think you’re in a position to do that right now.” Patrick doesn’t sound angry or upset; in fact, he doesn’t sound fazed at all. He’s teasing, and somehow that’s much, much worse. David can work with anger or disdain, but this? Something close to fondness? This is new territory.

Another few moments of silence pass before Patrick speaks, much more quietly than before. “Goodnight, David.”   
  
“Goodnight, Patrick.”

David isn’t sure if it takes minutes or hours, but he lies awake for a long time, letting the sound of his husband’s deep breathing wash over him. 


	3. Chapter 3

The bed is unusually warm, Patrick’s mother must have put the warming pan under the covers, except the warmth is right against Patrick’s chest and she wouldn’t have put it there, so why is it so hot? Consciousness returns gradually, and Patrick remembers he doesn’t live with his parents anymore, and then suddenly everything rushes back at once—he’s a married man, yesterday was his wedding day, and there’s someone else in his bed. Patrick opens his eyes and—yes, that’s David curled up in Patrick’s arms. 

Early sunlight streams in through the window. They must have moved toward each other during the night, and now David’s back is pressed up against Patrick’s front. Patrick has an arm slung over him and their legs are tangled together, and it’s so  _ warm.  _ David is clearly still asleep, his chest rising and falling slowly, and when Patrick stirs a little, one of David’s hands comes up and pulls Patrick’s arm tighter around him. Patrick freezes. He’s utterly paralyzed, afraid of moving and waking David and facing the embarrassment of having to apologize and explain, but he also cannot find justification to stay like this. It feels—dishonest. It’s warm and comfortable and Patrick pushes away the urge to burrow down and pull David back against him. 

There’s nothing to it, it’s a natural part of sleeping in the same bed. Except Patrick knows that’s not true. The (admittedly) few times he shared a bed with Rachel, he woke up with a start any time she moved. He would spend the entire night on edge, trying to maneuver himself and make himself smaller somehow. But last night he’d slipped right into sleep and hadn’t woken once. 

Patrick shakes his head and very carefully extricates himself from David’s grasp. He moves in small, measured increments, first untangling his legs and then extracting his arm, then finally rolling himself over to stand. He becomes painfully aware that he’s got an entire— _ situation  _ happening at his hips under his nightshirt, but he shakes his head again and crosses to the dresser. 

David can sleep a little while longer, Patrick thinks. Yesterday was a long day and David’s been thrust into a new life for the second time in a little over a month. And besides, waking David now would be indecent, what with the obvious state Patrick’s body is in. Patrick desperately tells himself that the erection has absolutely nothing to do with waking up cuddled together with David. It’s morning, it’s natural. It happens all the time. Except Patrick knows that’s not true either, not for him, not since he was a teenager.

Once he’s dressed—and his body is under control—he gives David another look because he can, because David is asleep and making small humming sounds with each exhale, and then Patrick heads outside. Some of the farmers are already up and moving around, and Patrick says quiet hellos to them as he passes. Ray tries to wrangle him into a conversation, but Patrick hedges and says something about looking at the fence at the far side of the property. He likes Ray, he really does, has known him for years and years. Ray used to work on his parents’ farm and made the move when they bought this land. But right now, Patrick needs to think—or rather, to  _ not  _ think about the man in his bed and why this morning felt different. 

He walks and walks, and soon he's walked the entire perimeter of his land and is no closer to figuring out why he's reacting this way to David. Perhaps it's the awkwardness of having their lives so quickly entangled? But then, neither of their unconscious bodies seemed to find it awkward. And it's not just the way he woke up completely wrapped up in David; it's how he fell asleep so easily by his side, when it used to take hours to fall asleep next to Rachel. Even through the smalltalk and fits and starts of moving around each other yesterday, Patrick feels an innate trust in David. 

The sun is high in the sky by the time Patrick decides he needs to go back inside. He's visited the cows and spoken with Gwen about when the new calf will be born, and he's talked to Bob about going into town to get one of the horses fitted for new shoes. He knows he's stalling, pushing off the moment when he has to face David and all the implications he’s been fighting since waking.

To his surprise, Patrick enters the house to the smell of something cooking. David is at the stove, which apparently he can work on his own, and has a pan full of eggs and what looks like a few of the vegetables that had been on the counter. 

It makes Patrick smile to see David like this, moving with ease in a home that's been his for less than 24 hours. David hasn't noticed Patrick yet, so Patrick stays by the door, leaning against the frame and watching his husband— _ husband— _ cook a late breakfast. He wants David to be comfortable, and seeing it happen makes something in Patrick’s chest constrict a little. He’s hit yet again with the realization of the terrible luck that’s befallen David, and thinking more about it might overwhelm him, so he clears his throat. David’s head whips around, and then he gives Patrick a tiny smile, almost looking guilty.

“So you got right to work, I see,” Patrick says, crossing to the hutch and pulling out two plates and setting the table. It should feel strange, he thinks for the hundredth time since David has arrived, but it doesn’t. It just feels new. Unpracticed, but not uncomfortable.

“Mm, I figured the least I could do was make breakfast. Literally,” David says, turning to Patrick. He has to stop what he’s doing on the stove because his hands apparently  _ need  _ to be involved in what he’s saying. “The  _ very  _ least I could do. Since I don’t know how to do anything else around here.” 

They talk more over breakfast than they did at dinner last night, and Patrick is learning that David tends to talk down about himself. It’s almost casual, the way he does it, referencing things from his past that he won’t go into detail about but always making a joke at his own expense. It makes Patrick feel oddly protective and he changes the subject. They talk about meeting the farmers and other workers today and doing a survey of the land so David can get familiar with everything that is now partly his. Like yesterday, they fall into an easy banter. David is eager to prove himself, Patrick can practically feel it coloring every question he asks. Good. As glad as Patrick is that David is making himself at home, he’s happier still that David seems to  _ want  _ to do this. 

The rest of the morning is spent walking around the land and introducing David to the people who work it. David seems more nervous and less sure of himself than he was earlier, but he’s charming and kind and everyone on the farm seems to like him well enough. There are 15 workers in all that stay full-time, and David runs through their names with Patrick as they walk along the fence to the far side of the farm and back. 

“And then Bob is…Bob—no, don’t tell me!” David says with a hand out toward Patrick to stop him from speaking. Patrick bites at his lips to keep from grinning outright. It’s a mundane task, and Patrick is having more fun than he’s had in ages. David takes another moment and then claps in triumph. “Horses! Bob takes care of the horses. And oversees some of the other livestock.”

“With…?” Patrick prompts. They’ve gone through the workers at least a half dozen times, and David keeps forgetting— 

“Gwen!” David’s eyes dance with pride as they enter the house. Patrick is proud of David, too. That must be what the constant flipping sensation is in his stomach, and what keeps pushing the corners of his mouth into a smile. He’s just proud of David’s progress.

After lunch, Patrick shows David the ice house. It’s a wonderful retreat from the sun beating down on them, though David makes a face and comments on the smell of the meat. Patrick smirks. 

“What I’m hearing is you volunteering to be on ice house duty until you’re totally used to it, is that right?”   
  
“You’re so perceptive,” David shoots back, and they smile at each other in the cool, dim air.

The gaze goes on long enough that Patrick starts to feel warm despite the ice surrounding them, and he opens the door and leads them back outside.

David offers to spend some time with a few of the workers to get a feel for what physical duties might fall on him, and Patrick fights back a twinge of annoyance. Obviously David should be doing that, he  _ should  _ be learning the ropes. But Patrick still finds himself slightly frustrated that David won’t be with him for the next few hours. As much as Patrick wants to watch David try to navigate a conversation with Ray, he has things he needs to do, so he tells David that he’ll call him in when dinner is ready and gets the materials he needs to mend the fence he inspected this morning. 

This morning—the memory rushes back, the feeling of David pressing into him. God, he needs to stop fixating. 

Though he tries not to, Patrick thinks about David while he works on the fence. He likes him. They get along and David is competent despite being brought up in a world completely different from the one he now inhabits.

There are hundreds of ways this arranged marriage could have gone wrong. Patrick is lucky. He just hopes David comes to feel that way too. It’s only been a day, but Patrick thinks they could have a good friendship and partnership. It’ll be a few weeks before they can even begin to think about what they want their business to be, but Patrick feels that same trust he recognized earlier. Patrick has always appreciated drive, and David has it. David is clearly much more capable than he thinks he is, if his self-deprecating comments are anything to go by. As he allows himself to consider the future now that he knows the man he’ll have beside him, Patrick already feels a keen sense of pride and satisfaction in whatever they will build together.

As for the other feelings—well, those are fleeting, nothing more than fascination. Patrick respects David, trusts him, and wants to work with him. They both knew what this marriage was when they entered it, and that’s all Patrick needs. He’s had inklings before, similar fascinations with men he’s known, and he can manage this just the same.

When the fence is finished and Patrick can’t stand another minute alone in his head, he walks back to the house, stopping in the chicken coop and collecting the eggs from the day. David isn’t in the stable or the ice house, so Patrick goes inside and starts dinner. There’s still no sign of David when it’s finished, and Patrick feels a tiny shiver of concern. David doesn’t know the area or anyone outside of the farm, and what if he somehow managed to get lost in the rolling hills? Patrick rolls his eyes and shakes away the worst case scenario before going out the back door. It only takes a few minutes to locate David out by the well, trying valiantly but failing to draw water. It’s ridiculously endearing to watch, but Patrick gets the sense that David wouldn’t like that classification at all, so Patrick quickly comes to his aid.

“I’m assuming based on the astounding amount of water  _ not  _ in the bucket that you’ve never had to draw water yourself,” he says, sidling up to David and taking the rope from him. David’s shirt is soaked through, and Patrick laughs as he brings the bucket up in long smooth pulls.

“Okay, I thought I was doing something nice by getting fresh water, but if you are just going to make fun of me.” There is no bite at all to David’s words, and Patrick makes a note. David likes to be teased. 

“It was very nice of you to get fresh water and then dump it all over yourself. If you wanted a proper wash, I could have taken you to the river.” As Patrick pours the bucket from the well into the larger one on the ground, David half laughs and half huffs. 

“I know you are just making fun of me, but I do very much want to see this river.”

Patrick pours another bucketful and then ties off the rope for drawing. “Perfect! That means you can be in charge of laundry. Then you get to see the river every week.” He picks up the larger bucket and just barely catches David’s eyes lingering on his arms. David’s glance shifts up to Patrick’s eyes, and he smiles. 

“I am not opposed to that idea.”

“Great, so tomorrow we’ll go to the river. For now, though, dinner is ready.”

As they eat dinner and the evening draws in, Patrick thinks again about thankful he is that things are turning out well. He knew it had been a risk to ask for an arranged marriage. Despite all the success stories he’d used to convince his parents, he knew of people who ended up with someone they couldn’t stand. It’s been a full day now, and Patrick feels like he’s known David much longer. 

Tonight, David pulls out some knitting he brought with him, and Patrick struggles to focus on his book. His eyes are continually flicking up to watch the almost casual deftness of David’s hands as they work the yarn. He wants to ask a thousand questions about where David learned to knit and how long he’s done it and if David would teach him and what else David can do with his hands. The last thought catches Patrick off-guard, and he’s embarrassed enough to keep his gaze averted for at least a few minutes.

It’s less awkward than Patrick thought it would be when they retire to bed. He’s spent the whole day pushing away thinking about this moment and how he’s almost positive that no matter what he will wake up tangled together with David again. But the conversation comes easily as they change and get into bed. The few hours of quiet after dinner seem to have energized David, and Patrick listens as David recounts what he did with the workers. He can name all of them now, including Gwen, and he seems—satisfied. Happy.

“So all in all your first day on the farm was a success,” Patrick says. He can hear the question in his voice, the tiny bit of him asking for reassurance from David.

“If you don’t count the absolute fiasco at the well, yes. I’d say so.” David’s voice has gone a bit soft, and Patrick thinks David heard what Patrick didn’t say. “Thanks for all your help today.”   
  
Patrick shrugs as he looks at the grain of the ceiling, flickering and dancing in the candlelight from the lantern. “That’s what I’m here for.” 

The moment is almost uncomfortably intimate until David shifts and kicks Patrick hard in the shin. He immediately bolts up and Patrick can see the momentary horror on his face until it melts into laughter, and then David’s eyes crinkle into slits while his shoulders shake. 

“I’m—oh my god, I’m so sorry! I haven’t shared a bed in a little while and—” David is laughing around his apology and he’s absolutely arresting, that’s the only word Patrick can think of. David looks utterly at home as he fights to speak, and Patrick finds himself laughing along until they both are winded and laying in an easy silence.

It feels like they’ve done this dozens of times, and Patrick wonders if it will change when it  _ has  _ been dozens of times. For now, he says a quiet good night and waits for David to blow out the lantern before closing his eyes and letting himself slip into sleep.

* * *

It’s almost startling how swiftly the first few weeks of marriage pass. David is pleasantly surprised to find how well he fits into life on the farm. He’s now on good terms with all of the farmers and other workers, and he’s a fast learner. Sometimes, when he picks up on something quickly, he finds himself immediately looking over to Patrick to catch the mixture of delight and shock on his face before Patrick nods and continues on with the next task. David can now chop firewood, collect water from the well, do laundry at the river over the ridge, cure meat (despite the god-awful smell of the ice house), and a dozen other things he never would have thought he could do. It fills him with a deep satisfaction at the end of each day to lie in bed and think of the tangible results from a day of work. 

To David’s delight, he’s also been teaching Patrick. Over the weeks, David shows Patrick how to mend his own clothing and what spices and flavorings to add to his food to improve it, and Patrick even listens to an entire evening of David talking about the difference between silk and satin, cotton and wool, and which fabrics are ideal for various types of clothing. When they visit the Rose farm a few days later, Patrick impresses everyone with his ability to rattle off what he’s learned about their old trade, and David’s stomach flips at the pleased grin Patrick shoots him.

The easy push and pull of their first day together deepens and stretches as more time passes. Patrick feels like a trusted friend already. A trusted friend who David is very attracted to, but he makes sure to tell himself often that it’s completely under control. It hardly matters if thoughts of Patrick are a constant undercurrent to everything David does. He’s managing.

Exactly one month after the wedding, David wakes before Patrick—a rare occasion—to find him curled up against David’s chest and snoring softly—a more common occurrence. Neither of them have mentioned it, but David knows that no matter how far apart they start the evening, they always find their way toward the center of the bed and each other. David knows that Patrick usually wakes first and tries to leave bed carefully, but more often than not David awakens to feel Patrick’s arms slowly leaving his side, or Patrick lifting himself gently from David’s chest, or Patrick rolling away from him. David never acknowledges that he’s awake when it happens, but he has started to catalogue the amount of time between when Patrick shifts into wakefulness and when he pulls back from David. As the weeks have gone on, the time between those two points has grown longer. But that doesn’t mean anything, David reminds himself. It’s not a large bed and the mornings are chilly.

Since David is awake first this morning, he takes advantage of it to just  _ look  _ at Patrick. He and Patrick are turned towards each other, but Patrick’s head is lower down and his entire body curls inward toward David. Patrick’s hand is between them, pushing against David’s stomach. Briefly David wonders what would happen if he mentioned this to Patrick, this subconscious pull their bodies seem to have. He can almost imagine the flush appearing high on Patrick’s cheeks the way it sometimes does when David makes an innuendo or Patrick realizes his eyes are lingering. Of course, David won’t say anything to Patrick, so he pushes the thought down and withdraws from the warmth of Patrick’s body to stand.

Because today is the one-month anniversary of their wedding, David decides to make something special for breakfast. 

David spent most of the afternoon yesterday picking blueberries near the river with a few of the workers, and he’s been wanting to try to make pancakes on the skillet, so he sets to work preparing the batter and dropping handfuls of berries into the mixture. The bucket of blueberries is still half-full, even after he and Patrick spent nearly an hour last night by the fire trying to land blueberries into each other’s mouths and laughing at the purple stains it left on their fingers. David catches himself smiling at the berries and shakes his head, pushing away the memory of the stain on the corner of Patrick’s mouth. Cooking a pancake to perfection is a deliberate art, and David lets his mind go blank as he makes one after another after another. 

The table is set and David is just pulling out the syrup from the hutch when Patrick wanders out of the bedroom, dressed but slightly rumpled. It’s unusual for David to see him like this, and David wonders briefly if he should be worried. But then Patrick gives him a beaming smile when he sees the stack of pancakes on the table, and David can’t think of anything else.

“You did this?” Patrick asks, his voice a bit gruff and sleep-roughened. David making breakfast isn’t anything new, but the pancakes are and the look on Patrick’s face is extremely gratifying.

David pulls out a chair for Patrick and then takes his own seat across from him. “No, I had Ray come in and make us breakfast and then leave.”   
  
“Ah,” Patrick says as he sits, a smile still playing on his lips. “Well, I’ll have to make sure to tell Ray thank you and that this was a wonderful surprise to wake up to.”

“You should definitely tell him that,” David says with a grin that he doesn’t even bother to suppress. 

Halfway through his third pancake, Patrick stops abruptly and fixes a penetrating look on David. It’s equal parts terrifying and alluring, so David just stares back and waits.

“Did you—you didn’t do this because today is…?” Patrick trails off and that familiar flush appears, just slightly. It’s charming, David thinks for the millionth time. 

“Because today marks one month of marriage, yeah.” Somehow, David manages to keep his voice even as he responds. Patrick’s face goes soft and his eyes seem to be shouting something, though David can’t quite make out what.

“You didn’t have to do that.” Patrick sounds quiet and a bit distant.

“I know,” David responds simply, and carries on eating. They don’t speak for the next few minutes, and when they do, it’s so Patrick can insist he do the dishes and David can quibble about wanting to do them for him. Patrick wins, of course, and triumphantly laughs as he takes David’s plate from in front of him and carries it to the large basin in the corner. 

“You already got the water for the day, too,” Patrick says, and his voice is still quiet and pleased. David tries not to be too obvious in his pleasure at having surprised Patrick this much. It’s just that Patrick has given David a chance at life again, and has made the transition easy, and has been so much better than David expected. But David doesn’t know how to say those things, so he makes pancakes and fetches water and lets Patrick do the dishes. They’re both smiling a little more than usual as they go about the rest of the morning’s tasks.

After they finish lunch, David takes care of the dishes and comes back to the table. He’s about to sit down when Patrick speaks. “I thought we might go down to the river to swim today.”

At first David just stares at him, waiting for the joke, waiting for ‘because you aren’t doing the laundry correctly’ or ‘because I’m going to teach you to fish’ or any other reason, but Patrick just stares back expectantly. 

“Really? Just…for fun?” It’s not that David hasn’t found things he enjoys while he’s been here—he has. Sometimes he goes out with Bob on horseback around the property, and he swims or bathes by himself when he takes the laundry to the river, and the time after dinner has been filled with books and knitting and games. And he has fun with Patrick almost all the time, no matter what they are doing. But he’s hardly ever seen Patrick stop working.

“Yes, David, just for fun. Unless you would rather help muck out the stables, because I know you’ve been dying to get your hands dirty.” God, Patrick is the worst. David rolls his eyes and bites the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling.

“Okay, I’ll have you know I have gotten my hands plenty dirty this month. But yes, I would very much like to go to the river to swim just for fun.”

Patrick’s eyes crinkle at the sides the way they often do when he’s pleased about something, and his shoulders relax and David realizes Patrick was  _ nervous  _ about asking, as though he thought David might say no to spending a whole afternoon with him. After a beat, Patrick drops his gaze a bit shyly. “Well. Good. So let’s pack some snacks and we’ll head out when you are ready.”

The river is close enough that David volunteers to carry the basket with the food, and that earns him another one of Patrick’s pleased half-smiles.

The short walk up the ridge behind the land doesn’t take long at all, and soon they are on the familiar path that leads to the river’s edge. Patrick takes the lead and they walk a bit further downstream than David usually goes, to where the water slows and gets deep enough that the bottom isn’t visible. David’s been to the river, of course, but it feels different now. Indulgent. He sets up the basket in the shade of a large tree and Patrick lays out the towels he’s brought with him. It looks like Patrick is going to protest when David opens the food basket—they agreed to wait until later to eat—but he grins when David pulls out a handful of blueberries. Nodding, Patrick takes a few steps back and opens his mouth. David  _ loves  _ this, he admits to himself as he tosses a few berries, scoffing when they bounce off Patrick’s chin or nose. He loves how comfortable he feels, and he loves the unspoken way Patrick understands him. It’s dangerous.

After David successfully lands five blueberries in a row into Patrick’s waiting mouth, Patrick steps forward and holds his hand out. “Okay, your turn to catch. You were better at it last night anyway.” David dumps the remaining berries into Patrick’s hand and steps back and then crouches exaggeratedly, holding his arms out to either side as though to balance. Patrick starts laughing so hard he can’t throw the berries and David’s entirely body feels lit from within. Once Patrick finally regains enough composure to throw, David catches every single berry and Patrick applauds him. 

They’re both still laughing when they walk down to the river’s edge, leaving their boots and socks behind. In a flash, Patrick pulls his shirt off and bounds over to a large boulder that juts into the river. “Watch and learn,” he says, and David couldn’t look away if he tried. Patrick holds his hands above his head as though he’s going to dive, and then shoots David a wink and jumps into the river, pulling his legs up to his chest and sending water splashing in every direction. When he emerges at the surface, his hair is sticking to his forehead and his smile is as wide as David’s ever seen, so David follows suit, stripping his shirt off as he runs to the boulder and jumps in next to Patrick. The water is cold but in the heat of the afternoon sun it feels like a gift. Patrick gets out of the river and clambers back up onto the boulder, and David cannot tear his gaze from the rivulets of water falling down Patrick's chest, the broad flex of his arms as he stretches before jumping back in, the way his trousers cling to his strong legs. He looks beautiful, David thinks for a split second, until Patrick’s face spreads into a wicked smile and he jumps in right next to David. 

They spend what feels like hours in the river, playing and jumping and floating. David can't remember the last time he felt this free and light. He keeps catching Patrick looking at him in quiet moments and it makes David's chest feel too tight. At one point they're engaged in a kind of half-submerged wrestling match, trying to force the other under the water and laughing hard enough to hurt, and David realizes this is the most they've touched—awake—in the entire time they've spent together. The thought makes him lose focus and Patrick takes advantage, pushing him underwater and then laughing gleefully when David comes back up. He looks younger as he laughs, and David is struck with an urge to wrap his arms around Patrick. It startles him and he moves to the edge of the water to put some distance between himself and his husband, who is still splashing in the deeper part of the river. 

David climbs out and moves to the boulder again, but instead of jumping back in, David lays on his back, letting the sun dry his dripping form. After a few minutes Patrick emerges and lays next to him. It's warm and quiet and David can hear his heart in his ears, so he closes his eyes and focuses on his breathing. 

"Why did you do this?" Patrick asks suddenly. David opens his eyes to look over but Patrick has his eyes closed, a small crease between them. 

"I was getting tired of you shoving me underwater and wanted to dry off." 

"David." Patrick's voice is firm and David wishes it didn't affect him so much. "I mean  _ this,  _ why did you do this." 

David doesn't answer right away. Obviously Patrick knows about what happened to his family and their money, but David also knows that he's trying to dig deeper. As David closes his eyes again, he thinks about all the reasons he listed out for his father, all the things he told himself when doubt crept in. He could brush this question off, but Patrick wants to know. He wants to know  _ me,  _ David thinks.

"I have a…complicated past," David says, drawing the words out. He hasn't talked much to anyone about his failed attempts at love, about how he's given himself away time and time again only to have it given back.

"So you've alluded to," Patrick responds. He doesn't sound like he's judging though, and that helps. 

It's true; David has casually mentioned things from his past before in what he's learned is a subconscious attempt to lower people's expectations of him. If they already know all the spectacular ways he's failed, then it won't come as a surprise when he inevitably fails again. And if he doesn’t let people get too close, he won’t be hurt when they eventually leave, as they always do. But Patrick is kind and encouraging, and David maybe doesn't want to hide from him, which terrifies him into speaking.

"My entire romantic history has been one disaster after another, and when the factory burnt down it kind of felt like a symbolic end?" David says in a rush, continuing on before he loses his nerve. "Three months before it happened, there was—I was almost engaged." Aside from a long night walking the streets with Alexis, this is the first time David has said it out loud. "His name was Sebastien. We met and I thought he was going to be it for me, I thought he was the one. He's an artist and since I'd been working at the factory for so long he said we could pool our talents and open a business together, he would design clothing and I'd oversee the production. We were—I thought he was in love with me." David pauses and opens his eyes. Patrick is leaning up on his elbow and watching David closely. It's almost too much, but the warmth of his eyes keeps David talking. "He told me we would get married and split everything but he needed—he needed money. To start things off with the business. He told me he would take care of everything, so I gave him the money, and…"

"And then he left," Patrick finishes, the crease reappearing between his eyes. "David…"

There's pity in his voice, and  _ that  _ is not something David can handle. "It was my fault," he says quickly. He doesn't deserve Patrick's compassion. "I never should have given him anything. We weren't even—he hadn't proposed. We weren’t engaged. It was my fault," David repeats. It's been a constant mantra in the months since:  _ this was my fault, I deserved it. _

Patrick reaches out and places a gentle hand on David's arm. David is suddenly excruciatingly aware that they both are shirtless, and he shivers with the exposure. Patrick’s thumb rubs methodically over David’s sun-warmed skin and David can feel it reverberate through his entire body. "David," Patrick starts, and his voice is so sure and soothing that David has to screw his eyes shut. "You didn't do anything wrong. You trusted him. You loved him.  _ He  _ is the one who broke your trust." The hand on his arm disappears, but Patrick keeps talking. "I'm so sorry that happened to you. So that's why—so you decided you didn't want to try again?"

David nods. "The fire happened and it was like everything my future might have been burned up with it. So when I saw your listing in the paper, it seemed like the  _ one thing  _ I could still do. One thing I had power over. Love didn't seem possible, so at least I could take care of my family."

Patrick is silent, and David keeps his eyes closed as he listens to the tranquil sounds around him: the quiet babble of the river, the birds chirping above them, the rustling of trees. Things he's never stopped to listen to before.

When Patrick speaks again he sounds far away, like he's traveling back in time as he tells the story. "I knew Rachel for my entire life. We went to school together, and we were best friends right away. Everyone always told us we would grow up and get married, and I guess I just believed them. I never felt—it didn't seem like I was feeling the way I was supposed to, but it didn't matter because she loved me and it was just assumed that I loved her too. I  _ did  _ love her, but it wasn't—it wasn’t the same. I stalled for years before I proposed, and then she was so patient with me, telling me we'd be married when the time was right. She never said so, but I knew it was a disappointment that I was dragging my feet because she was so  _ ready  _ for it, marriage, a family, all of it. Eventually I realized I couldn't do it. I couldn't marry her if I didn't love her, and we didn’t want the same things. I would just feel guilty all the time. It wouldn’t be fair."

David wants to ask if Patrick means it wouldn't be fair to Rachel or it wouldn't be fair to him, but he doesn't. Marriages without love are common, even for those who don’t have theirs arranged. Obviously love wasn’t Patrick’s highest priority, considering he married someone he’d never met. Patrick continues in his steady quiet voice, interrupting David’s train of thought.

"So I decided to take control, kind of like you said. It didn’t seem like marrying for love was an option, and I should have taken over this farm years ago. I told my father that I wanted an arranged marriage, and here we are." As he finishes, he turns to look at David and his eyes are almost golden in this light. His face is relaxed and the sunlight is catching glints of red and blonde in his hair. David has to smile at him, isn't capable of stopping.

"And here we are," he agrees. He senses that this is the most either of them have let someone in for a long time. Patrick has been so brave, David thinks. It would have been easy to marry the girl he grew up with who loved him and waited for him, and it must have broken both their hearts when it ended. “I can’t imagine how hard that must have been, to break it off like that.”

Patrick sits up and pulls his knees to his chest. David follows him and sits as well, glancing over to see Patrick’s eyes fixed on the water. “I don’t know, David.” He sounds raw, and David balls up his hands on his lap to keep from reaching out. “Is it harder to end an engagement by choice, or to be abandoned by someone you thought was going to marry you?” 

It takes David a second to realize Patrick isn’t just talking about Rachel, but about  _ him  _ as well _ ,  _ and then David does reach out, needing to somehow communicate that no matter what happened to either of them in the past, they are in this together now. His hand lands on Patrick’s back, bare and broad and softer than David would have thought. Patrick doesn’t react, so David rubs his hand up and down a few times before patting Patrick awkwardly and dropping his hand back to his lap. He wishes he had more words and could somehow comfort Patrick. Finally, he breaks the silence.

“I know that I normally feel better after I eat,” David says gently, and Patrick’s head falls back as he laughs. Between their casual touches in the water and stripping down their pasts for each other, David’s emotions are already far too heightened. He’s in serious danger of saying something more genuine than he’s ready to, and so he gratefully laughs along with Patrick and lets the mood lighten.

After they finish the food in the basket, they put the rest of their clothes on and head back to the farm and the duties that await. Neither of them mentions the conversation by the river again, but David feels it every time their hands brush, when Patrick holds him a little longer in the morning, in the soft voice Patrick uses with him. Something between them shifted on that boulder, and neither one of them can go back to who they were before.


	4. Chapter 4

The small town center consists of one long street lined with the typical establishments David expects: a small clothing shop, blacksmith, hay and feed outpost, a bank, a small hotel attached to a tavern, and a dozen other similar structures. He remembers Patrick quickly pointing out the different businesses the first time they left town, but he’d hardly been paying attention then, more preoccupied with the future he was heading into than the tiny frontier village he was leaving. The town hall where David married Patrick a little over six weeks ago sits at the far end of the street, and smaller roads jut out in both directions, dotted with the homes of those who live and work in town. David has only come back one other time since the wedding—a quick trip to set up their joint account at the bank—and this is his first trip into town alone. When Patrick asked David to take the trip by himself with a small but firm  _ ‘I trust you,’  _ David’s entire body seemed to glow and fizz with satisfaction.

Since their afternoon at the river, things between them have continued to deepen in a way David is afraid to name. It feels like more than a partnership, more than a friendship. Every single day David finds himself doing things specifically because he knows it will draw a smile from Patrick or make his day easier. Sometimes at night while he lies awake, David thinks he might be starting to understand what marriage is about. And sometimes in the morning when he feels Patrick’s arms tighten around him for a few seconds before letting him go, he wonders if Patrick is starting to understand, too.

David is loading the supplies he bought onto the small cart when he notices the building next to the tavern that used to be the general store. There’s no longer a sign hanging outside. He remembers that the last time he was in town, he and Patrick stopped in to buy a few candles and matches before heading back to the farm. The store had been nondescript, and David had made a comment to Patrick about the poor organization, answered by Patrick with a wave of his hand and a rueful grin. But now it stands empty. 

David gives Belinda a pat on the rump and feeds her a few carrots he brought for the trip before crossing the street. If the building is available, this might be the perfect opportunity for David and Patrick to start a business together, which has been the plan since before they were married. They haven’t discussed it much, what with adjusting to their new lives and spending their time together teasing and learning and growing. Last week when they visited Patrick’s parents, Clint had talked of little  _ but  _ their future business, offering advice and ideas and reminding David entirely too much of his own father. Clint and Marcy were lovely and kind and polite, and since spending more time with them David feels even more pressure to make sure their son is happy and taken care of. 

The smell of the tavern assaults David with unwanted memories as soon as he enters, but he's here with a purpose. He reminds himself there’s no Sebastien lurking around a corner waiting to trick him into giving away his heart again. David is a different man from who he once was; Patrick has changed him. The tavern is mostly empty, and David steps up to the bar and taps it while he waits for the barkeep to turn up. A dark-haired woman appears around the corner and David feels the air leave his lungs until he sees recognition dawn in her eyes. Before he knows it, she's on the other side of the bar and in his arms.

"Oh my god, what are you  _ doing  _ here?" She asks when she pulls back, slapping David on the arm. David's face is frozen in a shocked smile, and he shakes his head a few times, trying to assess if he's imagining it. He blinks, and she's still there. Stevie, his first friend—his only friend—who had suddenly moved six years ago. David tried for a while to locate her, but eventually gave up. And now she's here, a beautiful remnant of his past dropped right into the new world he is finally learning.

"I can't believe—what are  _ you  _ doing here?" David retorts, and then he's hugging her again. She looks good, he thinks. Still almost ethereal in her pallor, with wide dark eyes that are now boring straight into David.

"I asked you first." She smiles and rolls her eyes before heading back behind the bar and pouring David a glass of whiskey. "But since you look like you're going to pass out from shock at any moment, I guess I can tell you first, since it seems like you didn’t get any of my letters."

Stevie tells him about her family’s abrupt departure west to help her ailing aunt, who owned this tavern and the adjoining hotel at the time. Stevie wrote David a few letters and received nothing in return, and David feels momentarily sick when he realizes the years of their friendship they lost. Stevie didn’t abandon him after all. In typical Stevie fashion, she merely shrugs and says, “you’re here now.” David's eyes widen when Stevie tells him that when her aunt passed, she inherited everything. With a flourish she gestures around the near empty room. "So all this now belongs to yours truly.” As though she hasn’t just told a life-changing string of events, she goes back to the glasses she’s been cleaning. “Now, I’ve told you my story. Let’s hear it.”

For a moment David doesn’t know where to begin. He tells Stevie about the fire and Eli taking everything, about having to move to the land his father had purchased on a whim, and when he tells Stevie about the arranged marriage, she drops a glass. It shatters, and in the relative quiet it sounds like thunder. David hurries around the counter to help, but Stevie shoos him away. Once the glass is taken care of, Stevie leans forward with both palms on the bar countertop. 

“So you, David Rose, are  _ married.  _ That’s what you’re telling me.” David nods, and Stevie tilts her head. “Wow. That’s…something. And with whom are you sharing this wedded bliss? I get to know a lot of people around here.”

“Patrick Brewer.” David can’t help but smile around the name, and it’s embarrassing how fluttery his chest feels just from mentioning Patrick. He really needs to re-evaluate how well he’s keeping things under control. 

But he doesn’t have time to think about that, because Stevie is staring at him slack-jawed. “You’re kidding.”

Something about it makes David feel defensive, and he crosses his arms when he retorts. “I’m definitely not kidding. Why?”

Stevie’s eyes are dancing now, and she shakes her head and lets out a wolf-whistle. “I’ve met him. He was here a few weeks ago after picking up some supplies. We—talked.” Everything about her tone screams that there’s more she isn’t saying. It’s been six years, but David remembers well that Stevie doesn’t talk if she doesn’t want to. Still, he presses.

“You talked,” he repeats, and then throws his arms up. “About?”

“I’m afraid that’s privileged information, David.” The glint in her eyes tells David that Stevie is absolutely loving this. It’s infuriating and endearing and god, David has missed her so much. 

“Fine, you know what, that’s fine. I don’t even care that m-my husband—” He stutters and fumbles over the words, and realizes he’s never said them out loud. He’s thought them hundreds of times—often catching himself off-guard with the warmth that always blooms through him after—but vocalizing them feels like he’s letting the world in on an intimate secret. But Stevie’s watching him carefully, so he presses on. “That my husband has been in here talking about subjects unknown with the local barmaid. I don’t care.”   
  
Stevie doesn’t look away for what feels like hours and when she does, it’s with a brisk, knowing nod. And David clearly can’t just  _ not  _ respond to that.

“What—what was that?” 

Stevie casts him her most innocent doe eyes, and David shakes his head and points at her.

“That! That little—nod, that  _ look _ you just did. What?” 

It takes a moment for Stevie to speak again. "It's just. David, it's pretty obvious you have feelings for your husband."

David blanches, his jaw opening and closing a few times before he picks up his glass and drains the last bit of whiskey. Once he's done that, he holds the empty glass in his hands and regards it. It's not uniform all the way around, and there's a small chip in the bottom that hasn't turned into a crack yet. Finally he looks up. "Yeah. Yes. I do." As though a massive burden has been lifted from his shoulders, David crumples forward in relief. Stevie doesn't respond, so David goes on, staring at the glass again. "It's just that he's so—so capable and thoughtful and hardworking and—and he's so goddamn funny, even when he isn't trying to be. And he makes me feel—safe." Belatedly he realizes he's smiling again, and when he glances up from the glass Stevie is giving him a rare look of kindness.

"And have you talked to  _ him  _ about this?" 

"No, because if it doesn't work out and he doesn't feel the same, it's not as if I can just leave. This is different." He doesn't say that the risk is too great, that he would rather spend the rest of his life in this nebulous unclear territory than accidentally mess up everything he loves about his relationship with Patrick. 

Stevie's still got that kind look on her face, and it's a bit unnerving. David wishes she would say something cutting and sarcastic, but she doesn't. Instead, she pours David another glass.

Eventually David does ask about the empty store, and Stevie tells him that it closed a couple of weeks ago after the family moved to the city. He asks her questions about the people who come to town, about the shops that currently exist, about the needs of people living in frontier farm country. By the time David hugs Stevie goodbye and heads back out to Belinda and the cart, he is buzzing with excitement. He has a plan, and Patrick will be so surprised and pleased with him, and then it won't matter that David doesn't have the courage to bridge the gap between them, because they'll be building something new together. 

Any thought David had about proposing his plan hastily leaves when he arrives back home to find Patrick in bed, with his left foot wrapped in bandages and propped up underneath a few pillows. David’s at his side in seconds.

“Oh my god, what happened? Is—is it broken?”   
  
Patrick shifts and winces before his face falls back into a mask of controlled pain. “It was stupid,” he says, and David wants to embrace him so badly it hurts. As a precaution, he crosses his arms as Patrick goes on. “I was in the stable, trying to patch up the flooring of the loft, and I thought I could jump down.” Patrick’s voice is embarrassed and small, and David has to swallow a few times, blinking quickly. He will  _ not  _ cry at his husband’s bedside right now, absolutely not. “I don’t think it’s broken, and it could have been worse. It could have been a lot worse,” he says, choking over the last word. 

“Why would you  _ do  _ that, Patrick? What were you thinking?” David is surprised at the force of his own voice, and he realizes he’s shaking. “What would happen to the rest of the farm if something had happened? What would  _ I _ do without you?”   
  
At that last question, Patrick looks up at David with a mixture of surprise and shame. He shakes his head, his mouth opening and closing a few times before he speaks. “I’m—David, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

Anger and adrenaline are coursing through David now, and he steps away from the bed, trying to push away this extreme reaction. Obviously Patrick is injured but he’s okay, nothing drastic has happened. But he can’t quite get the message through to his racing heart, thumping loud enough that he can hear it in his temples. David paces a few times and then nods matter-of-factly. “We need to have a doctor come, we need to know if it’s broken or if it’s just a sprain. We can go from there.” 

“I’ve already sent for the doctor,” Patrick says, back to his small, embarrassed voice. Well, good. He should feel guilty, he could have killed himself. David’s mind is whirling again, and he needs to get out of this room.

“Good. That’s good. I’m—I need to go take care of the rest of the chores. I’ll have Ray come and check on you to see if you need anything.” He’s out of the bedroom almost before he’s finished, and then he leaves through the back door and keeps walking. Tears start to fall as he walks, and he remembers he needs to send Ray into the house, so he doubles back, wiping irritably at his face. Why is he crying? Why the hell is he losing it? 

He finds Ray and asks him to go check on Patrick, and then David sits against the back wall of the ice house and doesn’t move until dusk has well and truly fallen. When he reenters the house, the doctor is there and confirms to David what Patrick suspected: it’s just a sprain. All things considered, it’s the best case scenario. If it had been anything more, Patrick may not have ever fully recovered, or at least not enough to resume his everyday life. The news does calm David a little, but his heart still feels like it’s trying to fly out of his chest. 

The doctor leaves, and he and Patrick are alone again. David sits on his side of the bed and faces the wall. He shouldn’t have run out earlier, he should have stayed, what kind of husband literally abandons their spouse when they are injured? 

Patrick breaks the silence. “I’m sorry, David. I know this means you’ll have to take care of things here, but I won’t add to your burden, I can take care of myself, I—” 

“Shut up, Patrick,” David says quietly, and Patrick stops talking. David shakes his head and turns around to see Patrick looking at him with that familiar crease between his eyes. “When I married you, I promised to take care of you and serve you, so please just shut up and let me do that, okay?” 

Patrick’s gaze softens and the hint of a smile flickers at the corners of his eyes. “Right. Well, I mean you sent Ray in here to do that earlier, so I wasn’t sure…” He trails off and he’s got a full smile now, and David can’t help it, he’s smiling too even as he rolls his eyes. 

While David sat out by the ice house—hid out, actually—he thought about the past month and a half. It seems absurd that he’s only known Patrick that long. Now when David tries to remember his past life, everything leads him back to the present, to Patrick. And when he realized that he could have lost Patrick today, just like that—the thought terrified him. But he didn’t lose Patrick. Patrick is right here, and David is going to take care of him.

David gives Patrick another smile before standing. “I’ll bring you some bread and soup. Unless you’d rather I send Ray in to do it?” He’s teasing, but as soon as he says it, he wants to hear it contradicted. He wants to hear Patrick tell him that no, he wants David to do it, he wants David to be the one to be here with him.

Patrick cocks his head and roots David to the spot with his gaze. “No, I wouldn’t rather have Ray do it,” he says, his voice quiet and firm. Relief and pleasure ripple down David’s spine, and he nods and leaves the room.

* * *

On the third day of David-appointed bedrest, Patrick feels like he is ready to shake apart at the seams. He’s always been a worker. Staying still like this, doing nothing, it’s a specific kind of torture. Worse still is how perfect David has been as a caretaker. He knows more about natural remedies and ways to fend off pain than Patrick ever would have thought of a man who’s spent his entire life in the city. But David is patient and firm and knowledgeable, brewing Patrick willow bark tea three times a day and creating concoctions of rosemary and ginger to sponge over Patrick’s swollen ankle even more often. Patrick should be grateful, he knows he should. But realizing he has feelings for his husband over the past six weeks has been difficult enough to manage without having him constantly  _ there,  _ being competent and kind and brushing his soft fingers over Patrick’s skin. 

It had taken a week or two for Patrick to piece it together—not wanting to pull away from David in the mornings, finding ways to be near him during the days, laughing with him by the fire in the evenings. But then one day they’d been sitting across the table eating a dinner that Patrick had specifically made because David had mentioned it in passing, and it clicked. He was falling for the man he’d married.

So now, to have David taking care of him day in and day out, bringing him food and finding ways to make him more comfortable, helping him hobble to the outhouse, massaging his sore ankle—Patrick isn’t sure how long he can take it before he breaks. And the last thing he wants to do is make David uncomfortable or change things between them. David doesn’t owe him anything. The terms of the marriage were clear, and Patrick can’t expect David to feel the same way he does. But the proximity is threatening to ruin everything.

Just as Patrick starts a fresh panic spiral, David enters the room with a bowl and a rag. He smiles faintly at Patrick and sits next to him on the edge of the bed, reaching down to pull Patrick’s pant leg up. They’d fought about that; David had insisted that it didn’t make sense for Patrick to get dressed when he was just going to be in bed all day, and Patrick flat-out refused to be seen limping to the outhouse in his nightshirt. Patrick had finally won, and he hadn’t been able to keep the smirk from his face the first time David finished rolling up the fabric to have access to his ankle. Now, Patrick watches in practiced awe.

“It’s really impressive how much you know about all this,” Patrick says, gesturing at the bowl with the mixture as David starts dabbing it over his skin. 

David simply shrugs and continues the process. “You learn a lot when you have to,” he says, and Patrick is fairly certain that’s all David wants to say on the subject. It’s intriguing, like everything about David. 

David hasn’t stopped surprising him from the beginning, picking up tasks around the house and farm quickly, teaching Patrick about clothing and spices and natural remedies. And of course, David’s idea for a store which Patrick finally wrangled out of him once he’d convinced David he was okay. It’s a brilliant proposal, and Patrick can’t believe something like it doesn’t already exist. After David told him about the empty general store, he explained his idea: selling products created by those who live in the wider community. David had compiled a preliminary list of people he’s met over the time he’s lived here, and the goods vary from wooden utensils to handmade clothing to specialty foods to homemade skincare, things Patrick would never have thought to sell. But it makes so much sense, and Patrick had wanted to get to work right away until David had given him a stern look and pressed a hand to his chest until he was back against his pillows. Patrick knows better now than to try and push anything.

“Thank you for doing this for me,” Patrick murmurs, and he watches David’s fingers fumble with the rag. 

“Of course, Patrick.” David looks up at him with an almost shy smile, and then he sets the bowl and rag on the ground and gingerly touches Patrick’s ankle, watching Patrick’s face closely for signs of pain. It feels a thousand times better than it did the first day, but Patrick knows he’s not ready to go back to normal, and that David would probably strap him to the bed if he tried. The thought makes him laugh, and David’s face goes light as he moves up the bed to sit closer to Patrick’s head. “And what exactly are you laughing at? Is it my incredible skill?” David is so close now, staring down at him with something close to affection as he grins. He’s beautiful.

Before Patrick has time to think, before he lets himself consider his actions, he reaches up and gets a hand behind David’s neck and pulls him in. There’s an instant before their lips touch when Patrick’s eyes are still open, and he stops for the briefest moment to see if this is okay, if he has permission to change everything. David’s eyes have already fallen closed, and Patrick lets himself tug David in the last inch. 

As soon as their lips touch, heat bursts through Patrick’s body. His other hand comes up and grips David’s arm and he twists his body into the kiss. It’s an awkward angle, but he’s kissing David and David is kissing him back and it doesn’t matter that his ankle still hurts because David’s hand is on his jaw, tilting him just so until David’s lips break away and brush across Patrick’s cheek and over to his neck and down the vee of his shirt and up the other side. Patrick’s hand is still tight around the back of David’s head, and it’s an anchor as he feels the tantalizing contrast of David’s soft lips and bristly stubble move over his skin. When he can’t handle not kissing David anymore, he uses his grip to guide David’s mouth back to his and sinks into the feeling, utter rightness and desire burning through him.

It takes a few moments but Patrick realizes he’s whimpering into the kiss and he pulls back, bashful now. David’s eyes are dark and hooded and his lips are slightly pink and Patrick wants to haul him into bed and make sure he doesn’t leave, but his damn ankle. He tries to lift himself up but David shakes his head and pushes him back down. “Hey, stop, let me—it’s okay, let me just—” David is shifting again, making a bit more room for himself, why hadn’t he sat down on his own side of the bed? “Let me take care of you,” David whispers, and he trails his hand down Patrick’s shirt. Patrick’s eyes follow the movement and there’s no way David doesn’t see the effect he’s having, the way Patrick’s trousers are stretched tight across his groin. David’s hand stops at the top of them, and he looks up, his eyes searching. “Can I take care of you?” He looks hopeful and lust-ridden and Patrick nods, his hand sliding from David’s neck to his arm.

David leans in and kisses Patrick again, but it’s different this time. Slow and soft and gentle, unhurried in a way that sends pleasure rolling through Patrick’s stomach. While they kiss David opens Patrick’s pants, pushing them down to his thighs, and then he breaks away and looks down. 

Patrick has never been embarrassed of his body, but nervousness prickles his skin until David lets out a low groan and looks back up to him. “Patrick…” David says, almost reverent. He gingerly skates his hand over Patrick’s thigh and then takes him in hand. Patrick’s eyes roll back and close on instinct, but he fights to open them, to watch as David slowly moves his hand over him, and when David’s thumb gathers the liquid beading at the tip and spreads it Patrick feels a moan leave his throat.

For several seconds or minutes, Patrick can’t be sure, David keeps moving his hand so slowly it almost doesn’t feel real, except that it  _ is  _ real, David’s hand is on him and it’s more exquisite than anything he’s ever felt. David glances at Patrick and then he’s shifting again, moving further down the bed and leaning over and then— _ oh,  _ David’s mouth is on him, hot and insistent and threatening to break Patrick open from the inside. Patrick’s hand moves back into David’s hair, and he’s helpless to do anything but clutch onto it as David’s mouth envelops him again and again. Low growling noises are coming from David and Patrick can  _ feel  _ them, and it’s quickly too much. David keeps his mouth on him as Patrick shakes and jerks his hips minutely, and when David finally pulls off, his lips are shiny and Patrick needs to kiss him again. He tries to tug David toward him, but David gives him a slight smile and shakes his head.

“No, it’s okay,” he says, but Patrick doesn’t understand. He wants to taste David’s lips again, to see how they taste with Patrick on them. But David doesn’t come closer. Patrick slides his hand down David’s arm and around to his hips and just manages to brush over the front of David’s pants when David stands suddenly, shaking his head again. “Patrick, you don’t—it’s fine, you don’t have to.” Inexplicably, David turns on his heel and walks out, leaving Patrick panting slightly, his trousers still at his thighs as he softens against his stomach. 

Patrick feels hazy and he shakes his head a few times to try and clear it, to try and understand what went wrong and when. He had thought—it seemed that things were finally progressing and that David might feel the same way he did, but then he just left. Everything still feels a bit muddled as Patrick struggles to get his pants up from where he lays, replaying the look on David's face as he stood, recoiling from Patrick's hand. With a small grunt, Patrick swings his legs over the edge of the bed and reaches for the makeshift crutch next to him. Careful to keep the weight off his bad ankle, he pulls himself up and slowly moves into the living area. David is standing in front of the fireplace, his hands up on the mantle.

"David, we need to—"

David whips around and cuts Patrick off with a wild gesture. "What the hell are you doing out of bed? Patrick, you need to get—"

"David!" Patrick's voice rings out and echoes against the walls of the house, and David stops. "What just happened? Why did you—I don't understand." He can't make himself say it, can't ask why David wouldn't let him touch, why he practically ran from the room.

"I shouldn't have—I was just taking care of you," David says. He sounds almost cold, and Patrick hates it. Hates that he let this happen, let himself make a mess of everything. David speaks again, his voice even and measured. "You don't owe me anything."

A million replies roll through Patrick's head, but nothing comes out when he opens his mouth. Did David do it because he thought  _ he  _ owed Patrick something? Or maybe it was a momentary lapse in judgment and David regretted it already. 

Patrick waits, staring at David and willing him to bridge the distance between them, to let Patrick back in. But David doesn't move, and Patrick slowly nods. "Okay, David." He turns and carefully goes back to the bedroom. When he lays back down, he closes his eyes and counts to ten. He opens them, and David still isn't here. Patrick closes his eyes again and tries to forget the warmth of David's mouth, the heat of his eyes, and the cold emptiness of his voice after. 

For the first time in their marriage, David and Patrick stay on their sides of the bed that night.


	5. Chapter 5

David cocks his head to the side, evaluating. Long silent seconds pass until he huffs out a frustrated breath and starts moving the bars of soap back to the other end of the shelf. He’s spent the entire morning moving products around the half-filled store, trying to get a feel for what he wants the space to look like. And, if he’s being entirely honest, trying to distract himself. Letting his brain take over is too fraught right now, and he needs to keep busy before he self-destructs even further.

In the three weeks since he let himself break the barrier he’d so carefully maintained, David has desperately been pivoting between attempting to fix things with Patrick and attempting to avoid it altogether. The latter has been much easier, especially since he and Patrick agreed that David should start working on getting the store going. It doesn’t make sense for Patrick to leave the farm on a mending ankle, which gives David an easy out any time he feels like being around Patrick will break him open. David has spent nearly every day in town since the fracture in their relationship, and the payoff is a lease to the store, a dozen vendors, and a deep-rooted fear that Patrick might leave him at any moment.

David’s eyes fall closed as he leans back against one of the store’s shelves. He’d been so  _ stupid.  _ When Patrick kissed him, something came over David and clouded his judgment. He convinced himself that Patrick had been cooped up for three days and needed to let off steam, so David had taken him in his mouth and let Patrick come undone. But then—he could still see the shock on Patrick’s face when he tried to reach for David and David stepped away. He can’t stomach the thought of Patrick thinking he owes him, that sex is transactional. David has known too many people who used it with him that way, and he refuses to let that enter his marriage. 

There have been moments when David thought Patrick might try to break through the new wall that’s come up between them—little flashes when it appeared that they might be able to move forward—but mostly it’s been cold and formal at the house. David can’t handle more than a few minutes in Patrick’s presence, which is why he’s at the store again today despite having nothing new to do. Everyone he’s ever loved has left him, and now that he can admit to himself that Patrick is someone he loves, it makes sense that Patrick will eventually leave. The best David can do is build this store into something beautiful, something that shows Patrick that David is worth keeping around despite his total lapse in judgment. 

Truthfully, though, David would do it again. He’d do it a thousand times if Patrick asked, would take care of him in every way imaginable and ask for nothing in return, if it meant getting to stay by his side. That thought is more terrifying than anything else, and it’s driven him from the house day after day after day. Sighing, he opens his eyes and looks around. At least the store is benefiting from David’s almost manic attention. It’s come together so quickly, and if all goes well, he can open in the next week or so. If he and Patrick can settle on a name. The name of the store has become something of a safe topic in the otherwise tense time they spend together, the previous teasing and ease slipping into conversation for a little while. David loves the little smiles he can wheedle out of Patrick as he floats more and more ridiculous names, and Patrick has been thoughtful and considerate as he’s listened to some of David’s more serious pitches. But they still haven’t decided—one more unclear piece in the puzzle that their life has become. 

David crosses over to the medicines and home remedies that he’s carefully curated with his own selection and a few additions from neighboring farmers. After a moment he finds what he’s looking for and brings a sprig of peppermint to his nose, inhaling deeply. It reminds him of his childhood, before the first person he loved left. Adelina always smelled of peppermint, and she used to tuck some under his pillow at night. He smiles at the memory and takes another deep breath. He’s calmer now, though his nerves still feel frayed at the edges. 

After another appraising walk around the store, David heads to the tavern. He’s been hiding out here, too. Stevie takes one look at him when he walks in and pours him a healthy measure of whiskey. It’s barely midday, and as badly as David wants to drink and forget like he’s been doing for the past three weeks, he shakes his head. “Water, Stevie. Please.”

She doesn’t say anything but tips back some of the whiskey herself before pushing a glass of water across the counter. David takes it but doesn’t drink, just stares miserably down into the clear liquid. 

“This is pathetic, David. You look like shit.” Stevie’s voice is quiet and cutting. David’s head snaps up, a retort ready on his tongue, but the look on her face contradicts her tone. A sadness permeates her severe features, and her large dark eyes are full of concern. It’s a jarring contrast to the Stevie he knows, and he crumples forward onto the counter with his head in his hands. Stevie knows everything, sat through David’s story a half-dozen times, and she’s mostly remained silent about it. This though, this pity—this is worse. David doesn’t cry. He’s too exhausted from walking on eggshells at home and throwing everything he has into the store and the ever-present uneasiness and dread that Patrick will eventually decide he’s too much and abandon him.

When he looks up, Stevie is studying him carefully. Her eyes narrow for a moment, and then she heaves a sigh, one hand coming up to run through her hair. “David, there are things I can’t tell you, but that I think you need to know. About Patrick.”

David can hear his heart start to pound against his ribcage. What could Stevie possibly know about Patrick? The first time David saw her again, she did mention that she’d already met Patrick. What had they talked about? Surely not about David, since Stevie didn’t know David was married when she saw him. What then? He pushes himself up on the stool and curls his hands protectively around his glass, as though it might keep him safe. “Okay. So what are these things I need to know that you can’t tell me?” 

“I can’t tell you that the first time I met Patrick, he talked to me about this complicated situation at home,” Stevie says, and David loves her for it. “He didn’t go into specifics, he’d just met me, but people talk when you’re on the other side of the counter,” she adds with a shrug. “He told me that he was falling in love and that he didn’t know what to do about it.”

Time suspends in the moments after Stevie speaks. Shockwave after shockwave jolt through David’s body and he thinks he might throw up. Patrick  _ couldn’t  _ have been talking about David but—but there isn’t anyone else, is there? And this was over a month ago.  _ He’s been falling in love with me for over a month.  _ David is laughing wildly, and Stevie grants him a one-sided smile. He could  _ kiss  _ her for telling him, but then his laughter dies and he frowns.

“Wait. Why hasn’t he told me?” 

Stevie’s face immediately transforms into stunned skepticism. “David, why haven’t  _ you  _ told  _ him?  _ I told you to talk to him weeks ago. Fuck, you’re both  _ idiots.”  _ She sighs and pushes the glass of whiskey back over to David. He doesn’t protest this time, just knocks back the rest of the glass. 

“But then after I—after what happened, why didn’t he say something? I mean, oh my god, this whole time we could have—what if he’s changed his mind since then?” The momentary elation crashes back down and David feels a fresh wave of melancholy spread through him with the whiskey. “I pushed him. I shouldn’t have—and now he doesn’t—what do I do?” He looks helplessly up at Stevie, but she shakes her head. 

“Historically speaking, I am a terrible source of advice for anything involving actual emotions.” David doesn’t look away, and she eventually closes her eyes and takes a deep breath before opening them and leaning in. “You just need to talk to him, David. He is the one who can answer those questions, not me. I’m just the local barkeep,” she says with a wink. Thank god Stevie found her way back into his life. 

David nods and stands before reaching across the bar and grabbing Stevie’s hand. “Thank you, Stevie. Even if this means I now have to figure out how to actually  _ communicate  _ with the man I married.”   
  
Stevie raises a glass to him as David makes his way to the door. “I’ve got the liquor if you need it.”

As he walks out into the midday sun, David feels like the ground is moving underneath him. Everything in his life has been in constant motion since the factory fire, a never-ending horizon of new challenges and feelings to navigate. If what Stevie said is true and Patrick is—he can’t bring himself to even think the words, too afraid of letting the thought take root in his heart. His entire world could shift again today, if only he can work up the courage to take a few steps into the dark unknown and hopefully find Patrick waiting there.

He’s already thinking about how he can possibly bring this up after he returns to the farm when he reaches the store and sees…no, that can’t be Belinda. David had left her at home today, choosing to ride a faster stallion who is now tied up behind the store. But as he nears her, she tosses her head in recognition, which means— 

Patrick emerges from the door with an apologetic smile on his face. Immediately his hands come up in front of him in surrender. “I know what you’re going to say, that I shouldn’t have made the trip, but I couldn’t stand another day alone at the house. I needed to see the store.” Apparently satisfied that David isn’t going to rush him and force him back on his horse to ride home, Patrick steps back inside and gestures David to follow him. 

David steps inside gingerly, Patrick’s presence knocking his equilibrium a bit. He stops just within the doorway and watches as Patrick takes a few steps and looks over the interior with a satisfied nod. “It looks incredible, David. I can’t believe you did all this. Well, I  _ can  _ believe it actually. You’ve done—it’s amazing.” Patrick’s voice is quiet and David moves closer almost without realizing it. He doesn’t know how to respond, and Stevie’s words are still floating around in his head and threatening to tumble out.

Several moments pass before Patrick looks back at David. His face is much softer than David’s seen it in the past few weeks, and it draws him another step closer, in front of the service counter. Needing something to steady him, David reaches out and grips it. Neither one of them speak. Patrick takes a step this time, his eyes fixed on David. He’s not in David’s immediate space, not yet, but he’s hovering around the invisible boundary that went up three weeks ago that neither of them have been able to cross. Suddenly, David is struck by how much he’s missed waking up in Patrick’s arms or with Patrick pressed against his chest. He’s missed occupying Patrick’s space and having Patrick in his.

“I think I’ve settled on a name for the store,” Patrick says, turning and leaning against the counter, breaking the intensity of the moment. It’s the last thing he expected to hear Patrick say, but then he also didn’t expect Patrick to show up in the first place. Patrick has a knack for pushing David slightly off-balance.

“Oh,” is all David can manage in response. He hopes his tone sounds casual, but he’s distracted by the appraising way Patrick is looking around the space.

“Yeah. I think it should be called Rose Apothecary.”

Two thumping heartbeats pass before David laughs and crosses his arms. “Funny.”   
  
“David, I mean it,” Patrick says, and oh no, now he’s facing David and looking at him with those deep brown eyes that have always seen more of David than he wanted to show. “This—” he gestures around the space, “—you did all of this. It was your idea, you put it into action, it’s all you. This store is you.”

“I did all of this with  _ your  _ money, Patrick!” David feels frantic and panicky as he shouts back. He needs to convince Patrick he’s wrong, that he’s giving David too much credit. 

“It’s  _ our  _ money and you are the one who did it. You created this beautiful thing, and I want it to have your name. You—” Patrick stops, clearing his throat and blinking a few times before going on. “You gave up everything to marry me and start over. And look what you did. It’s perfect and it’s beautiful, and it should have your name. I want it to have your name. ”

Thoughts fly through David’s head. Patrick thinks the store is beautiful, and he wants it to bear David’s family name. How can he reply to that? 

And then, clarity. Instead of saying anything, David takes the last step separating him from Patrick, finally crossing the dividing line between them. Slow enough that Patrick can move away if he wants, David lifts a hand and cups Patrick’s jaw. Patrick’s eyes widen slightly, but he doesn’t pull back. It’s all the courage David needs. His eyes stay open until the very last second before their lips meet, and the air around them seems to crackle when they finally kiss. For a long moment, it’s almost tentative in its softness as the world recalibrates around them. But then Patrick’s teeth nip at David’s bottom lip and three weeks of hurt and confusion flood the kiss and drive them closer until Patrick’s hand is clawing at the back of David’s neck and David is moving them so he can press Patrick against the counter. They kiss and kiss until Patrick pulls back for breath and David can’t stop so he kisses Patrick’s jaw, his ear, the dip of his collarbone. Patrick’s hands find David’s shoulders and he pushes gently. When David pulls back, Patrick’s face has gone a beautiful pink.

“I just—last time this happened, we didn’t talk. And I can’t do that again,” Patrick whispers, his voice shuddery and gorgeous. 

“Right, you’re—you’re right.” David nods and tries to step away, but Patrick’s hands tighten on his shoulders and keep him where he is.

“Last time you also ran away, and I’m not letting that happen,” Patrick says, and now he’s almost smiling, and he’s so beautiful.

“I’m sorry. I’ve never—I’m used to people using me. And I didn’t want you to—I don’t know, I know it doesn’t make much sense, but I didn’t want to—to jeopardize what we’d been building, because that—it meant something to me. And I was so afraid it wouldn’t mean the same thing to you, like you were just—returning the favor. Like you owed me.” David’s not sure where the words are coming from, but they’re out and now he can’t stop. “I wanted to take care of you because I—I care about you, Patrick.” It comes out a little broken. 

Patrick’s hands move up to David’s face, and he pulls him down into another unhurried kiss. David’s nearly breathless when Patrick releases him. “David.” On Patrick’s tongue the word holds more weight than it ever has. Patrick keeps David close when he speaks again. “I love you.”

David’s eyes close and he presses his forehead to Patrick’s. He feels too full, like some of him will inevitably come sloshing out if he moves at all. He has a thousand things he wants to say, about his past and how he doesn’t know what he’s doing, but in the end there’s only one thing worth saying. He opens his eyes and finds Patrick’s trained on him. “I love you.” Patrick’s face seems to bloom right in front of him, and David can’t be sure who leans in first but they are kissing again until they are both giggling too much to keep their lips together. David feels gleeful and a bit ridiculous but he can’t stop laughing, and neither can Patrick, and in the middle of the store they’re going to finish building together David lets the happiness wash over him and wrap around him as Patrick pulls him back in.

* * *

Eventually Patrick puts a firm hand on David’s chest and gives him a tiny push. As much as Patrick wants David to lay him out on the counter and kiss him until nightfall, he actually  _ does  _ want to get to know the store better. In the wake of the cold that had settled over their marriage and Patrick’s sprained ankle, today is the first time he’s seeing the space, and it is even more impressive than the idea had been. Patrick’s heart feels too large for his chest as he looks at David, lips slightly parted and eyes a bit unfocused. Suddenly it becomes unthinkable that Patrick waited so long to tell David he loves him. 

It’s only been a few minutes since saying it and hearing it back, but Patrick overflows with the need to make sure the message truly sinks in. “I love you, David.”   
  
David, infuriating and beautiful, bites his lip and cocks his head. “So you’ve said,” he whispers, and that’s it, Patrick cannot go another second without kissing him. 

Heat floods Patrick as he pushes his hands into David’s hair and holds him close. He kisses intentionally, making sure David feels every hint of teeth and every swipe of his tongue. Once David is nearly whimpering against his lips, Patrick puts the tiniest distance between their lips. “You’re impossible,” he says, his lips brushing David’s as he speaks.

“And you love me,” David replies, and this time he’s the one to close the gap between them with a strong hand on the back of Patrick’s neck. Time loses meaning as they stand in the middle of the store—their store—and tear down every barrier that’s come up in the past three weeks. 

Patrick breaks the spell once his lips start to go slightly numb, and David’s face is so open and joyful that Patrick leans up and kisses the tip of his nose. David bites his lip again, and Patrick kisses the dimple that appears on his left cheek. Finally—and with much difficulty—Patrick grabs David’s shoulders and pushes him back a few steps.

“Okay,” Patrick says, trying to regain some semblance of control over himself. “Okay. Why don’t you show me around the store and tell me about what we’re selling.”

David obliges, and Patrick only half pays attention as David lists off products and vendors and ingredients. Patrick is more focused on the shape of David’s mouth, the way his hands move elegantly through space to punctuate what he says, the obvious undercurrent of excitement and pleasure beneath his explanations. David looks like he  _ belongs,  _ and it’s breathtaking. David is in the middle of describing an under-eye serum when Patrick snaps back to attention at his words. 

“…And I’ve been thinking of sampling some of this because I’ve slept so terribly the past few weeks trying to figure out how to live with the man I’m in love with—”

Patrick stops abruptly. David said it so casually, so straightforwardly, and Patrick’s not sure he’ll ever be used to it. God, he’s so lucky. He’s been loved by David for weeks without knowing it, and now they’re finally in sync.

David realizes that Patrick has fallen behind and turns, concern etched between his eyes, and a laugh bubbles up in Patrick’s throat. He can’t remember a time when he’s ever felt this completely happy. Patrick steps back into David’s space and wraps his arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace which David mirrors immediately. “I love you. I know I said it already, but I have weeks and weeks to make up for,” he says into David’s neck with another little laugh.

“You can say it as much as you want,” David responds, his voice slightly muffled and a little shy. “I don’t think I’m going to get tired of hearing it.”

They stay like that with their arms around each other for a long while. Patrick eventually pulls back enough to go on tiptoe and kiss David’s forehead. “I think you deserve to sample that eye cream.”

David looks positively giddy at that, though he does pause to correct Patrick. “It’s actually  _ serum,  _ and yes please.” He grabs a small tin of the serum and then hops onto a table, holding the tin out expectantly. 

Patrick grins. “Oh, am I supposed to be the one putting it on you?” Though his tone is teasing, he automatically moves to the space between David’s thighs and takes the tin from him. Right now, he’d do just about anything to keep the light, happy look that seems to have etched itself onto his husband’s face.

“It seems like the kind of thing you do for someone you love,” David says. 

Patrick sets the lid on the table and then leans in to kiss David quickly. “And you are someone I love.” He gently grabs David’s chin and tilts his head up, letting his thumb stroke over his stubble for an extra few seconds before releasing him. 

“I love you,” David says simply, his eyes cast up toward the ceiling. It takes Patrick a moment to steady himself enough to gather some of the cream _ —serum— _ and then as tenderly as he can manage he starts to spread it on the delicate skin beneath David’s eyes.

“I love you,” Patrick repeats, and kisses David. He applies a bit more of the serum before saying it again, kissing David again, and starting over. By the time David’s eyes are sufficiently moisturized, they’ve traded at least a dozen kisses and I love yous, and Patrick’s heart is lodged somewhere in his throat as it tries to fly away.

The rest of the day passes much the same way, little affirmations accompanying their movements around the store and each other, giggly kisses at every opportunity. They stay in town until the sun starts to set, and Patrick makes sure to watch the way the golden light catches in David’s eyes while they make their way home.


	6. Chapter 6

David’s body wakes slowly, his senses taking their time returning to him after sleep. The first thing he’s aware of is the solid, warm presence of Patrick’s back against his chest. Patrick’s breath is coming out in deep waves, and David pulls Patrick tighter to him before he even realizes he does it. When he sprawls his hand over Patrick’s bare chest, he can feel Patrick start to wake in his arms. It's still a relatively new gift to be able to relish the liminal space between sleep and wakefulness without worrying about pretending it didn’t happen later. David finally opens his eyes and presses a kiss to the back of Patrick’s neck, lit up into a soft golden pink from the morning sun.

The days passed quickly after David and Patrick admitted their feelings for each other, a flurry of reassurances while working on the store day after day and learning each other’s bodies at night. David smiles as he remembers the evening that followed the revelation that they were in love, now over a week ago. They’d laid in bed and laughed as they talked about how blind they’d both been, and then kissed until they couldn’t breathe, and then David had pressed into Patrick and they took their first real inhale together. 

The memory makes David kiss Patrick’s neck again, and this time Patrick stirs. “Mm, good morning to you, too,” Patrick whispers. David loves his voice in the morning now that he’s allowed to hear it close and intimate like this, knowing that mere hours ago Patrick was murmuring praises and biting his lip to keep from shouting. Patrick wriggles and turns in David’s arms until he’s facing him. 

“Hi,” David breathes, and Patrick closes the little space between them to kiss him. It’s lazy and indulgent and sends ripples of pleasure out to David’s fingers and toes. David feels Patrick’s hand spread over his bare side to his hip, and David gasps against Patrick’s lips as Patrick presses into a mark he left last night. It’s a potent reminder and David eventually has to push Patrick’s shoulders back or they’ll end up spending the entire morning here. 

“Hmpf,” Patrick pouts, straining to lean back in, and his lips end up on David’s shoulder. 

“I know, but we actually have to get out of bed if we intend on having the opening today,” David says around a smile. Patrick is so clingy in the morning now that he doesn’t fight it once he’s awake. 

But David’s sentence lands, and Patrick goes stiff for a second before pulling back and looking at David wide-eyed. “It’s today. We’re opening the store today.” 

David leans in and kisses him quickly because he can, and then rolls out of bed and stretches. When he turns around, Patrick is smirking and obviously eyeing his naked form and David pretends to be scandalized just to see Patrick laugh. “C’mon, enough of your wandering eyes, get up.”  
  
Patrick’s face changes, and his voice is a bit heavier when he speaks again. “Remember the first time you got out of bed before me?”  
  
It takes David a second, and then he does remember. He remembers blueberries and pancakes and a day spent stripping down his barriers by a river. The memory feels like something sacred, a turning point for both of them. David nods and closes his eyes, fighting the urge to crawl back into bed and spend a few hours luxuriating in Patrick’s unwavering attention. But when he opens his eyes, Patrick is already up and grabbing clothes, so David follows his lead.

They move around each other with the same practiced ease they’ve had for months, but now they allow their hands to brush and their touches to linger. David preens when Patrick wraps his arms around him from behind while David does the breakfast dishes. “I’m so proud of you,” Patrick murmurs into David’s neck. 

“I’ve been doing dishes for ages, Patrick,” David says. 

Patrick huffs a laugh against his skin. “Yes, that's impressive, too. But I mean the store. You’ve done such an amazing job, and I’m so excited to show it off to the world.”  
  
“I’d hardly call the tiny town center and a few farms ‘the world,’” David says, his tone utterly failing to hide his pleasure at the praise. 

“Hey.” Patrick gently nudges and maneuvers David until they’re facing each other. “I love you.” 

Even after hearing it a hundred times, it fills David up to overflowing. He blinks rapidly, fighting the ridiculous tears that surface whenever Patrick looks at him like this—like he’s the only thing in the world. “I love you,” David replies on a breath. He can never get enough of how it lights Patrick up to hear it.

While Patrick hitches the cart up to Belinda, David loads up the last of the supplies they need to take with them and then packs in the food he prepared. He’s nervous as he gets up into the cart beside his husband, doubt tinging every single decision he's made for the store. The nerves in his stomach remind him of the first time he sat on this cart, leaving town with Patrick minutes after their wedding toward some unknown future. Pieces of that future have filled in and come together, and as they set off down the road to town David is overcome by how different he is from the man he was that day. He and Patrick have made each other better. David realizes that as nervous as he is to open the store, nothing can change the fact that he already has everything he needs sitting next to him. If the store fails, if it burns to the ground, if he loses everything he owns again, it won’t matter, because Patrick isn’t going anywhere.

The ride goes quickly with Patrick’s steadying hand on David’s thigh, keeping him grounded. As they move down the small street comprising the city center, David squints when he sees three figures standing in front of the store. Once he’s close enough to make out who they are, his jaw drops and he turns to Patrick who is looking at him with a helpless grin.

“I might have sent Ray over to make sure they came,” Patrick says, and David loves him so much, loves the myriad ways Patrick keeps finding to show David he cares. David hasn’t seen his family since the idea for the store took root, and he suspects that Patrick wants to show off the development in their relationship as much as the business they’ve created. 

“David! Patrick! Well, look at this!” Johnny calls as the cart rolls to a stop. As soon as David gets down, his father comes and claps him on the back. “David, how exciting! Your own business!”

David can’t help the gratified smile that comes over him as he looks up at the store’s sign. He’s proud of what he’s built here. He turns to find Patrick engaged in a quiet conversation with Alexis, and his heart skips a beat as he sees the way they’ve so seamlessly become family. The last time Patrick and David visited the Rose farm over a month ago, Patrick and Alexis had been nearly inseparable, and at the time it had irritated David. Now though, it’s almost enough to make him cry as he watches the man he loves and the woman he’s spent his life taking care of giggling and conspiring and shooting him knowing glances. David takes a steadying breath and turns back to his father.

“Well, it’ll be more exciting once we get inside and actually open,” David says as he moves to unload the cart. “Alexis, maybe you want to actually be helpful and carry in some of this stuff instead of monopolizing my husband?” 

She aims a simpering smile at David before leaning in and whispering something to Patrick that has them both laughing. 

When David gets to the door, his mother turns from where she’s been peering in the window and gives him a smile. It’s almost entirely genuine, and David relaxes a bit as he opens the door and ushers everyone inside. 

Patrick comes to stand next to David, a calming hand at his back, while David watches his family take in the surroundings. Johnny is nodding and murmuring “excellent, excellent” to himself while Alexis takes it upon herself to sample nearly everything in the store that can be sampled. But David’s eyes follow his mother and the way she slowly moves around the space with surprise written all over her face. 

“David, I don’t know how you’ve done it, but you’ve managed to create something truly winsome in this aesthetically deficient wilderness,” Moira says, and suddenly tears are pricking at David’s eyes. 

Thankfully Patrick steps in, rubbing his hand up David’s back and speaking. “David’s truly an incredible talent, isn’t he? This entire store was his idea. He contacted all the vendors, organized the stock, and put everything together.” The love is obvious in Patrick’s voice, and David sees the way his mother’s face changes and softens as she looks back and forth between them.

“I see this store is not the only thing blossoming in the Rose-Brewer family,” she says in a low murmur. David flushes and ducks his head, but his mother is already striding across the store to join his father.

“You’ve been looking forward to that, haven’t you?” David whispers, turning to Patrick and melting a bit at the pure joy he can see on his face.

“They’re proud of you, David. And I wanted them to know that things have—changed. With us.” Patrick steps closer and kisses David softly. David’s vaguely aware that his family is still there, but he doesn’t care as he brings a hand up to Patrick’s jaw and brushes a thumb over his cheek. Alexis makes some sort of squealing sound and David smiles into Patrick’s lips before pulling back. David's never felt like something worthy of this kind of love and pride before, but with Patrick, he's learning.

Soon enough it's time to officially open, and David pulls Patrick to the side, seeking out one last private reassurance before sharing their creation with "the world," as Patrick put it.

David drops his voice low enough so that Alexis, standing nearby, won't be able to overhear. "Are we ready to do this?"

Patrick's eyes hold all the gentleness in the world as he grips David's arm. "Open the door." 

After that, it's hard to keep track of time. To David's utter astonishment, nearly every person he's met in his new life filters through the store: Marcy and Clint, looking delighted and bewildered as Johnny tries to chat with them; the tenant farmers from his and Patrick's farm, including Ray who appears to be angling for a sales position as he upsells other customers while looking around; the workers from his family's land, with Twyla holding Alexis' hand as they both practically glow; Roland the mayor, asking if he gets a discount for performing the marriage; proprietors of the other businesses in town; and Stevie, bridging the gap between who David was and who he is now. 

Johnny, Moira, and Alexis leave midday with promises of returning soon and visiting David and Patrick on their farm. Alexis gives David an entirely uncharacteristic hug and whispers, “I’m so happy for you two.” David repeats it back into her hair before releasing her and watching her leave the store with her arm around Twyla, looking utterly radiant in their happiness.

The day stays busy enough that David doesn’t get much of a chance to stop and breathe. People from the town keep trickling in and then chatting with each other or asking Patrick questions or congratulating David, and it’s as rewarding as it is exhausting. No matter what though, every time David looks across the store to Patrick, Patrick turns to meet his gaze as if pulled by an invisible force, and his small reassuring smile gives David strength.

It seems like years have passed since they met, only a block or so down the road. David catches himself wondering what would have happened if the factory had never burned down, or if Patrick had simply grit his teeth and married Rachel, or if David hadn’t answered the inquiry in the paper. A thousand things had to happen in a specific order to bring them both here, but part of David is convinced that no matter what, they’d have found each other. That same pull that has them looking at each other every minute or so, the same pull that led them to curl up together in the night, the pull that David constantly feels—he’s certain that pull would have led them together somehow. 

In the end, it doesn’t matter how they ended up in each other’s lives. After they lock up the store, they make the trip back to their home—to the future they’re now actively choosing to pursue together. As they pass over the last ridge and their farm comes into view, Patrick looks over to David with a soft, knowing smile. David takes his hand and squeezes. As long as they’re together, he’s home.

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on tumblr @thedidipickles or twitter @didipickles2


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